Love In Times Of War
by DracoNunquamDormiens
Summary: In 1978, James Potter decides to make a fateful choice, war or no war. That same evening, Lily Evans decides to take him up on it. And of course, no family is complete without a dog!
1. One: Christmas 1978

**Disclaimer:** No jewellers, passers-by, or made-up locations have in any way been demolished, blasted, pulverised or splattered with goo in the making of this chapter.

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 **In this Chapter:** James has a quest, Sirius has a lot of nicknames, but really wants to be a chef, Remus brings the wine, Peter shares his snacks, and a certain item is procured for a certain something. Someone. Yes.

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This is for my favourite fic tester Shayde123, because she asked for some fluffy romance. I hope this sort of fits the bill. Thank you for helping me sort out story after hare-brained story even after all these years!

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 **Love in Times of War**

 **By**

 **DracoNunquamDormiens**

 **.**

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 **Chapter One: Christmas, 1978**

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"Sirius." James' tone holds a hint of a warning as he puts them both out.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Sirius sounds annoyed, only he isn't, because they just survived a duel against twelve Death Eaters, and he is still radiating that particular brand of adrenaline that's characterised him for years. In this state, Sirius is nothing short of ecstatic.

In this state, Sirius is also still too wand-happy for words, and James wonders if he shouldn't just hold off for a bit.

With the War keeping them so busy, though… he doubts he'll manage to make the trip to Newcastle-Upon-Tyne again so soon. His days off are for Lily, and he wants it to be a surprise.

It _must_ be today.

"I _mean_ it this time," he says redundantly.

"I didn't do it on _purpose_!" Sirius protests, fiddling with the Invisibility settings on his motorbike as they soar noiselessly into the air, blending in with the overcast sky. "It's not like I went _asking_ for it, did I?"

James knows Sirius isn't lying. He never goes just "asking for it" unless it's part of the job. He checks his vest pockets for the parchment, closes his red Auror robes when Sirius chooses to plunge them both into a cloud, his dark blue Hit Wizard robes sizzling as the icy droplets put them out.

Sirius circles the Magical Gold District once, twice, flying ever lower, and the argument is put on hold while they both scan their target warily, sharp senses trying to spot the slightest hint of magic — dark or otherwise — as they approach their destination.

"Clear," Sirius tells James.

"Clear," James confirms. This guarantees exactly nothing, of course. It's _always_ clear until they're spotted. Then it's all rubble within a handful of minutes. Still, they land without a hitch, and James supposes, that's already better than the last three times.

"Just hold off until —" James puts down his helmet and dismounts from Sirius' massive motorbike.

"I'll try my best," Sirius promises.

"And try not to break anything."

"Yeah, because I just so happen to control the bloody Death Eaters' timing, don't I." Still, Sirius makes a show of putting his wand securely in his coat's inside pocket. "There," he says. James lets out a chuckle despite himself.

"Is that supposed to make me feel any better? You levelled the last three shops," James reminds him needlessly. "Anyone might think you don't want me to do this."

"No, I just enjoy freezing my bollocks off on your quest for love." Sirius grins obnoxiously. "To be honest, I don't understand why you just don't grab one of your family's old ones."

"Because I want this one to be _unique_ ," James argues. "A start of something new."

"Well you won't find it in there," says Sirius, nodding towards the gilded glass cases. "They mass-produce those things."

"I'm not looking for any of the ones on display. You'd know if you'd let me have five minutes of face time with the owners."

"I _said_ I was sorry! It's a reflex, you know that!"

"Well, take your reflexes outside, Pads. Collins is supposed to be the best of the lot."

"Not in a million years. Your mum would kill me if I let you stroll into a trap all by yourself."

"Just. Don't. Break. Anything." James's tone is honestly warning now.

"I heard you the first time." He still ignores him, yanks open the door and strides inside before James can protest. He follows, thinking this time, he won't manage to get it done, either.

"Afternoon," Sirius' tenor is pleasing enough. It also sends a ripple of anxiety all over the jewelry parlour.

"Lord Black," Peredur Collins hurries towards him from behind the counter, gives him a very nervous, very low bow. Sirius smiles mirthlessly.

"I haven't been Lord Black for a long time, Peredur."

"Here, you will always—"

"Don't worry. I won't break your shop." Sirius's tone is wry. Collins swallows, turns towards James, a pleading look in his eye.

"Lord Potter." says Peredur Collins. "What can we do for you two today?"

"Just me," James says firmly, while Sirius scans their surroundings, fingers looking like he's playing the air piano to a tune only he can hear, turning on his heel while he surreptitiously tests the weave of protection spells in the jewellery store.

"There is something I want to talk to you about, Mr. Collins."

"Sure, follow me," says Collins, with an anxious glance at Sirius, who gives James a non-verbal all-clear, then pretends to be interested in a collection of glittering necklaces on display near the door.

James pulls out a battered piece of parchment from his pocket, spreads it out on the counter.

"There's something I want you to make for me."

James is on high alert, as are they all; only, poor Peredur Collins is worried about losing his entire stock today as well: Sirius's fame for demolishing every building he sets foot in precedes him wherever he goes. Whacking Black, that's what they called him in school, and the nickname still holds. James has heard a few new ones recently: Wrecking Black, and Sirius the Demolisher, and he'd be lying through his teeth if he didn't think them fitting.

However, this is a bit of an unfair fame, James thinks, as he watches Peredur place his specs on his nose and peruse the drawing. Sirius hasn't destroyed the Ministry yet, and he goes there every day. And Godric's Hollow is still standing, but maybe that's just because Sirius doesn't shit where he eats.

But then, the press has always loved giving Sirius nicknames. Ever since Fifth Year, one nickname has taken precedence over all others, where he's concerned. The Potters' Watchdog, they called him, and that's the one Sirius lives up to the most. No matter where James goes lately, trust Sirius to hound his every step.

For a moment, he wonders why he doesn't get cool nicknames like that. He has destroyed five more buildings than Sirius, and nobody calls him Bulldozer Potter. Which is, admittedly, a way groovier name than The Potters' Watchdog.

He glances at the entrance of the shop, where a young witch — probably a Third Year — is blushing furiously as she says hello to Sirius, who is leaning casually on the doorway. Some things never change, and Sirius smiles and makes the poor girl go all gooey-eyed and trip over her feet as she walks on.

Sirius turns around, gives him the OK sign and returns to his unobtrusive watch, which, to be fair, is anything but. Sirius is famous, always has been, always will be. And James has yet to meet one female who doesn't succumb to his charm, even when he isn't trying.

Or especially then.

James decides he'll leave his best friend and favourite brother to his watchdog thing, and make the most of whatever time he's got left with Peredur, before the inevitable occurs and he's once again, left with a good idea and empty hands.

"This is exquisite, Lord Potter," the old wizard says appreciatively, his apprehension momentarily forgotten. "I would be honoured to make this for you." And then it's all selecting the magical alloys, and a long discussion over how to cut the Fleamont Diamond just right to chip off the best corners, and James gets so into it, he forgets everything else for a moment.

Until there's a blast that makes them jump, and screaming coming from the street, and James whips around to find Sirius isn't even here anymore.

He doesn't have to wonder where he disappeared off to — an instant later, he is sailing through the air, yelling, "OPEN A TAB FOR ME, PEREDUR!"

"Shite," James mutters, drawing his wand. Next to him, Peredur shrinks behind his counter, lips moving in a silent prayer. "Will you do this?" he asks, as he hurries to the front of the shop— and gets pushed backwards by one of Sirius' Containment Spells.

"Yes, Lord Potter, sir! But please, don't break my—"

"WATCH OUT!" Sirius' bellowed warning gives James barely enough time to cast his strongest shield.

 _CRASH_.

And there goes Collins' shop front. James watches glass and necklaces and rings and lockets and Sirius fly past him. He bounces off James's shield, though, flashes him a grin, and hurtles back outside.

"Shield yourself in and finish your shopping," he calls over his shoulder. "I got this — HEY EVERYONE! OPEN ME A TAB!"

 _Oh brother._ Much as Sirius can't set foot anywhere without getting into a duel, he has always been very good about repairing what he breaks, and that shout has become famous in most of Wizarding Britain's shopping districts.

It's also always, _always_ followed by…

 _BOOM_.

James snorts helplessly, shakes his head as his shield absorbs most of the blast. He did as he was told, because this is important, too.

"All right, Peredur— when can I come pick this up?" he asks brightly. "Before Christmas, I hope."

.

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"Breathe, Prongs, it's not as if she'll hex you," Sirius says, gesturing for James to lift his chin so he can adjust his cravat just right.

It is Christmas Day, and James is a bundle of nerves.

"What if she says no?" James asks, fingers the box in his pocket to make sure it's still there.

"She won't, don't be daft. Those are your nerves talking." In times such as this, Sirius is a very unusual sort of calm, one he reserves exclusively for the Wolf when he's annoyed, Peter when he's about to take an exam he fears he'll fail, and James when he's in over his head. "Who in their right minds would turn down _this_ magnificent example of gallant wizardry?" Sirius gestures at all of James, taking a step back and surveying his handiwork: James' dress robes are immaculate, his silk cravat is perfect, and his face is pale and drawn. "Dude, could you look any _more_ constipated?"

"That's easy for you to say, Pads. _What if she says no_?"

"James." Sirius looks into his eyes. "She's put up with you for over two years," he reminds him firmly. "Trust me, those _weren't_ your best years, and she's still around. If you ask me, you two have been fire-tested enough. You'll be fine," he assures him. "Unless you dribble on your shirt in front of her. Come on." And he steers him downstairs.

Nina is already there, Peter is clattering around in the kitchen, and Remus is running a little late, but James doesn't mind. He blushes to the root of his hair when his Mum lets out a dreamy sigh at the sight of him, smiles uncertainly at his Dad, but when the fireplace flares up green and Lily steps out of the embers, James forgets everything and everyone.

She looks gorgeous in her turquoise evening gown, like a sprig of spring that can light up the coldest winter night.

Remus arrives at last, looking like he's missed a few square meals and a handful of nights, but he does bring a bottle of wine, which they drain while opening presents, catching up with a backdrop of carols and the smell of nutmeg and pine in the air.

Sirius, James notes a little later, goes missing for a bit.

"Where did he go?" James wants to know, trying to decide whether or not to drink his brother's wine — to bolster up his courage, as it were.

"Oh, he got a Floo call from work, sweetie," his Mum says. "He promised to be back in time for dinner."

"Didn't he get tonight off?" Remus asks, frowning.

"And tomorrow," Nina supplies, sighing. "But you know Shacklebolt. He doesn't give a care."

James' eyes narrow, but he can't sense any impending doom from Sirius, just the sarcastic mindset he reserves for out-of-hours jobs.

"He says he'll be back before we've even finished the wine," James tells them, shrugs it off, smiles at his friends and at Lily.

"Let's prove him wrong," Peter says brightly, emerging from the kitchen with platters laden with finger foods.

"I'll drink to that," Lily agrees, laughing and raising her glass. And is it him, or do the fairy lights cluster around her just _right?_ It's making his gut give a funny flop and his nerves assert themselves once more.

James decides Sirius won't grudge him if he drinks his wine, after all.

They're well past their third bottle and getting rather tipsy with one of Dad's old drinking games, when they hear the tell-tale roar of Sirius' motorbike clattering up the drive. The thing sounds like the exhaust got dislodged again, and it seems to have lost its brakes, because Sirius seems to park it with a crash.

" _Finally_ ," Nina exclaims, hurries out — to welcome Sirius or tell him off, remains to be seen — and moments later, a familiar sort of laughter rings out from the entrance hall.

"No, no just one of those rush jobs, I've even gotten the entire week off, what will we do with all that _time_ —" Sirius is saying, as the door closes.

Only then does James notice how much was missing from their celebration.

"I hope you didn't start dinner without me," Sirius' voice exclaims, as if they would, honestly. "Let me just get changed— better yet, why don't you give me a hand?"

He gives them all a grin and a wink, then disappears up the stairs with Nina, leaving a lingering trail of motor oil and smoke and adrenaline behind.

Christmas Dinner is excellent, a trademark Padfoot Special if there ever was one. All six courses are delicious, and James wonders where his battiest friend found the time to whip up a banquet at all — he loves to cook, but they've been insanely busy since the Yule.

"Padfoot, seriously. You should have your own restaurant," Peter says, loosening his belt and demanding seconds of everything.

"Wouldn't that be brilliant?" Sirius sounds dreamy. "When the War is over, maybe."

"If you've left anything standing by then," Lily points out, and they all laugh.

"Is that a challenge, Lils?" Sirius asks, exchanging a glance with Nina. "Do I hear one hundred Galleons?"

"Don't make a bet you can't win," Nina advises, much to their amusement.

James watches them, and his stomach gains a knot.

Dinner can't end fast enough, which is a bit selfish of him — they're all enjoying themselves as much as they can, after all, and it's not an everyday occurrence anymore. They're all trying to make the most of tonight — they haven't all come together in months, much less had anything to celebrate.

And he's insanely nervous.

Sirius gives him a long look, wiggles his eyebrows, even as their empty plates vanish into the kitchen and dessert floats onto the table.

 _Padfoot, I can't do this!_

 _'_ _Course you can,_ Sirius sounds every bit as confident as James isn't.

 _But what if she says no?_

 _Look at her! She's on the wrong side of tipsy, there's no way she'll say no._

 _She's not drunk—_

 _She_ so _is. She's not even in focus_.

 _You're the one who's drunk, Sirius._

 _And don't you wish_ you _were? You can always offer her a drink at the same time, that way she'll say yes for sure._

James shakes his head, chuckling in defeat.

"There's something I'd like to say," he hears his voice rise above the animated conversation, which sort of dies too fast for his liking. James swallows, his hands suddenly sweaty. He's not used to being this nervous, over anything.

He looks at Lily's expectant face, which is mirrored almost universally in the house — even the portraits are curious. Everyone except for Sirius, who gives him an encouraging nod.

 _What if she—_

 _Don't ask me! Ask her!_

"Lily," he says aloud. Gods, he's going for it, he already started, and what if she says no and what if she says yes and Merlin's most saggy y-fronts, he can't think when she looks at him like that, and what if he drops the ring and —

 _Here's where you say, 'you've been in my life for years'_ , Sirius' voice erupts in his head.

"You've been in my life for years," James hears himself say obediently.

 _Now take her hand,_ gently _. Good. Now say_ …

"And the last few years have been the best of my life," James repeats after Sirius. "I love you, more than anything, and I can't imagine life without you—"

 _Now take out the ring…_

 _It's in your other pocket, James. No, the_ other _one._

Sirius sighs in his mind. How can he _sigh_ with a thought? James wonders in a panic. Lily's eyes are on him, and gods he can't read that expression, _what if she says no?_

 _Left breast pocket, Prongs. Breathe_. Sirius doesn't sound mocking. His voice in James' mind is gentle, firm, putting words in his mouth that mirror his exact feelings.

"I don't want to imagine life without you," James says next, fingers trembling as he pulls the small velvet box from his left breast pocket, acutely aware that he didn't put it there; it was in his trousers, not next to his heart.

 _Flip it open, don't just thrust it at her. There you go, Prongs, nicely done_. _Remember to kneel_.

James gets down on one knee, holds Lily's hand in his.

"I want to imagine life _with_ you," he says, while part of him wonders where Sirius comes up with this stuff. "The rest of mine, and yours, if you'll have me." He swallows, looks into her emerald eyes, and suddenly he doesn't need Sirius to play prompter anymore.

"I want to spend the rest of my days by your side, I want your face to be the last thing I see at night, the first thing I see when I wake, for ever. Will you do me this great honour and marry me?"

A moment later, his world erupts in a whirlwind of cheers and kisses and there's a lot of red hair in his immediate field of vision, and he only registers Lily has thrown herself into his arms with excitement and tears of joy when they're both on the floor and his face is tingling, not one inch spared from her lips.

It is the best Christmas of James' life.

Until Lily emerges from kissing him long enough to tell him they _must_ visit her family for New Year's.

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 **TBC.**

See? I totes _can_ write fluffy stuff. Sort of. I also hope I can keep it PG for once. Sort of. Let me know what you think?

 **Next Up:** Meet the In-Laws. There's a war on, so of course, stuff happens. Stuff blows up. Sirius tries hard not to destroy a certain building, Regulus gets a cameo, Remus is cranky, the Death Eaters are evil, but despite all that, love is in the air!


	2. Two: New Year's Day

**Disclaimer:** Anything that resembles anything from anywhere is nothing thats connected to anything from anywhere.

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 **A/N:** Yes, I am aware this is a James/Lily wedding fic. It sort of derailed. In my defence, THERE'S A WAR ON, PEOPLE. _You_ try to fluff it up with Death Eaters firing at you all the time.

 **In this Chapter:** Stuff gets blown up a lot, Sirius is looking for prime real estate, finds it, does his thing, James meets the In-Laws, Remus is cranky but he is Mr. Not-Appearing-In-This-Chapter, we find out what Sirius was up to on Christmas, James is bored, then he's no longer bored, and Regulus gets his cameo. But despite all that, love is in the air. Sorta.

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 **Two: New Year's Day**

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"Get _down_!" Sirius's shout reverberates in the street. James doesn't question it, he drops to the ground, feels the hot sizzle of a spell fly past him. "Get out of the way!" Sirius snaps, and James barely has time to roll aside before Sirius' heavy boots land right on the spot he had occupied, a familiar flash of fire bursting from his wand.

They are in London today, just around the corner from Regent's Park, but today the view is the furthest thing from James's mind. Today, he and Moody were investigating a dingy attic flat they suspected was somehow connected to an increased Death Eater activity in the area— and they hadn't been wrong.

Moody had been ecstatic over their find, and so had James — for about two minutes, until they sniffed the fumes of an entrail-liquefying potion, which filled the room in poisonous green even as they called for reinforcements and realised they could apparate in, but not out.

The Longbottoms, Nina, Marlene, and James had hurtled down the stairs after Moody, only to find the entire building filled with Inferi. It had become utter chaos, especially when they reached the second storey and all but landed in the welcoming arms of a half-dozen Death Eaters in silver masks.

James still isn't sure when, exactly, Sirius showed up.

He knew his brother had arrived when yells and panic turned into the sounds of explosions, confirmed it a moment later, when the Death Eaters stopped jeering and began making mistakes in their sudden fright, when the Inferi actually started dropping left and right and did not get up again.

He doesn't see Sirius until the battle is taken outside because the Victorian building is crumbling around them all, and now he's rolling out of the way of stray curses that aren't even aimed at him. When he looks up and tries to gather his bearings, James sees Marlene helping Moody to his mismatched feet, Frank and Nina duelling three Death Eaters somewhere behind him, and Alice to his right as she walks into a wall that just sprouted from the ground — which blows up when a Killing Curse impacts upon it. Sirius flashes her a grin, yells out a, "Watch where you're going, Alice!" and aims a burst of hexes at the other three Death Eaters.

James scrambles up to help him, as Alice laughs, already engaged in battle with two of the black-robed figures.

"The hell are you doing here?" he asks, casting anti-apparition wards up and down the street.

"I was in the neighbourhood," Sirius is more flippant than usual. Out of them all, he's enjoying himself the most, dodging and blocking curses with a grin on his face. James finds him contagious, but—

"You're on holidays!" he protests, casting a quick shield on Sirius an instant before a curse hits him from behind, but already Sirius is whirling around, lets out a Strike Spell with pretty decent aim.

They all envy him for his luck; Sirius picked Hit Wizards over Aurors and out of them all, he is the only rookie who gets to choose when and with whom he works. He even gets to yell at the senior Aurors if he wants to. Six months after leaving Hogwarts, Sirius already outranks them all.

"I got bored," Sirius answers, brings two fingers to his mouth and lets out three shrill notes James knows perfectly well from their school days. It's his signal for Caradoc to start a Beater Barrage — and to everyone's surprise but his, it comes a moment later. Caradoc also joined the Hit Wizards, and apparently the two of them have been busy coming up with new battle tactics, James realises, when chunks of tarmac start rising up in the air and fly at the Death Eaters from almost every direction. Caradoc makes them speed towards the battling group from one end, Sirius backhands them at Caradoc from the other and the Death Eaters get caught in the middle.

It provides enough confusion for James to add a quick volley of jinxes to the mix, and one of the Death Eaters — a short, dumpy-looking one — staggers into the others, holding his bleeding thigh.

"Your Mum says to come in for dinner tonight," Sirius informs, while behind them, the Aurors are regrouping. "She's making quiche— NOT THAT ONE!" he suddenly bellows at Caradoc, who is slicing a large chunk off what looks like a derelict, abandoned shop in the corner. Caradoc freezes, gives Sirius a confused look. "NOT THAT ONE! THAT ONE IS MINE!"

"What, the _building_?" Caradoc asks, and Nina's shield keeps him from being turned into a very confused pile of ash.

"Just— don't touch it," Sirius yells back, using his wand like a Beater's club and making a section of sidewalk slam into the three Death Eaters James and Alice are taking on. Then, he strides forward to check Caradoc hasn't damaged the place.

The battle seems to be over.

Moody hurries forward, laughing. Alice gestures for James to help him put the unconscious Death Eaters in shackles. On the other end of the street, the other half of their opponents just reached the limit of the anti-apparition wards and vanishes with a noise like firecrackers going off.

James has other troubles at present. From under the slab of rock and concrete, there is a tangle of twitching limbs, and he can't tell which hand or leg belongs to whom.

"You think… this one goes with that one?" Alice asks, and he is glad to see he isn't the only one who's confused here.

"Not sure, let's just get them all." He shrugs, claps one hand in irons, then attaches the other shackle to a leg. A muffled whimper reaches his ears as the shackles dampen their prisoners' magic.

"Frank and I will bring these in," Alice tells him. She looks like someone dumped a sack of flour on her, but underneath the dust and rubble, she is grinning. "You lot and Moody get the Obliviators over, sort this mess out."

"Aye aye," James tells her, helps her lift the slab. To his surprise, only two unconscious Death Eaters are underneath, shackled in such a way they look like they're playing that Muggle game, twister.

"Looks like this didn't go with that," Alice points out shrewdly. They both laugh, as Frank arrives to help her take their prisoners away and when they're both gone, James joins Moody over at the corner where Sirius is arguing with Caradoc.

"You can't just go around breaking a perfectly good building," his battiest friend is saying, carefully repairing the rip on the column with a tap of his wand.

"It's just an old building, Black," Caradoc tells him. "What's so special about it?"

"Dude, are you blind? It's _perfect_ for a restaurant!" Sirius exclaims. "Just _look_ at it — overlooking Regent's Park, on one of the busiest thoroughfares _and_ in a tourist district— this is prime real estate," he adds, all starry-eyed. "This place will be the bomb, Dearborn, just you wait."

And now James knows what Sirius was doing in the area.

"A restaurant?" Nina asks, as she and Marlene join them them. Sirius turns to them with a bright smile, opens his arms wide to give her a hug.

"Good morning, gorgeous!" he exclaims, still caught in his usual post-duel adrenaline rush. He _is_ head-over-heels, James notes. Nina looks like she put her fingers into a Muggle electricity socket, her hair on end and covered in soot marks, and her robes are splattered with bits of Inferius and some nondescript dark slime. Sirius still looks at her like she's the most beautiful thing he's ever set eyes on, plants a kiss on her mouth and makes her grin.

"I thought you said, night club, yesterday?" Nina asks him, smiling widely.

"Can't it be both? Restaurant by day, night club the rest of the time? Or a night club where you can dance _and_ get a decent meal?" Sirius asks her, everything else forgotten. "It will be the _innest_ place in the whole of London," he decides, not waiting for an answer.

"I'll just get the Obliviators, shall I," Caradoc says, shaking his head. Moody claps Sirius on the back, laughs his raspy bear laugh, and winks at James. An instant later, a Memory Orb is in his possession, and James is grateful. Debriefing Sirius is basically time off duty.

"It looks a bit rickety, don't you think?" Marlene asks, already repairing the torn-up street. She didn't escape the splatter treatment, either.

"As long as the foundations are strong, the realtor said," Sirius answers, examining the three-storey Victorian as though he's looking at a perfect manor house. "I just put down an advance on it, they're sorting out the paperwork."

"What happened to, _there's a war on, I'll do it later_?" James asks him.

"Ah, Prongs," Sirius answers. "Don't be so near-sighted. Just think of the future!"

"We need you to look to the past for a bit, though," James tells him, dances the Memory Orb under his nose. Sirius groans.

"What, _right now_?"

"Don't be such a baby," Nina tells him, kisses his cheek, which is showing stubble. James suspects Sirius wasn't lounging at home last night, either, and he doubts he's gotten to his bed at all. "You'll get to moan over it when _you_ have to write down everything from your Orb in triplicate and file it under—"

"Okay, okay, I'll do it," Sirius takes the glass sphere, then gives her a mischievous look. "But only if _you_ write it all down later."

" _Only_ the battle, Sirius," Nina warns, but she's blushing cherry-red. "Don't add anything… else this time."

"Aww, you're no fun," Sirius complains, but he presses the Orb against his temple and fills it to bursting with his recollection of events, hands it to James—

The next moment, the Orb flies out of his hand, and James catches a glimpse of him turning around before the world is engulfed in flames and they're all sent flying.

It's Nina they have to thank for still having all their limbs attached; Sirius threw himself on her out of instinct, but she's always been far from useless— as they scramble to regain their footing, they are all inside a glowing yellow sphere, shielded from the worst of the blast.

"Have I told you how much I love you?" Sirius asks her, gives her a hand up.

"Not today," is the shaky answer. Sirius wiggles his eyebrows.

"I'll have to remedy that," he says, then launches himself at the source of the new volley of spells.

The duel is even fiercer now; the Death Eaters seem quite reluctant to give up their attic flat — which means there's something important or incriminating in there, and the Aurors decide it's worth having a good fight over.

Good is the last thing this is. By the end of it, three Obliviators and a handful of Muggles are reduced to corpses littering the sidewalk. The reinforcements from Headquarters are late because of the anti-apparition wards nobody had gotten around to taking down yet, and by the time James and Marlene are able to undo the weave of spells, the street is peppered with craters.

They don't make any arrests this time around. One of the Death Eaters lies in a puddle of blood at Moody's feet — one of the younger Castles, as is revealed when they take the kid's mask off. James remembers her from school, she's hardly over fifteen, a Fourth or Fifth-Year at best.

Moody curses.

"He's using _children_ now," he spits. Sirius looks at the pale girl on the ground, his face drawn. James wonders how much he knows— he doesn't look shocked like the rest of them. Disgusted, yes. Sad. But surprised is the one thing he isn't.

"He's always used children," he corrects, closes her eyes, makes a black shroud with the Castle crest settle over the body. "Someone ought to notify her family. Her brother will take it hard. He's in St. Mungo's."

"A Healer of some sort, right?" Moody growls.

"Yeah, he works in the Spell Damage ward, he's one of the best Curse Breakers there," Sirius answers; he'd know all about that, wouldn't he. "It would be best if you took her directly to the morgue. Don't make him see her here. Not like this."

"Is he…?" Marlene leaves the question hanging. Sirius shrugs, shakes his head.

"I don't know. But this could sway his allegiance, one way or the other. Don't be unkind. He loves his sister."

They decide Moody isn't the best choice to break the news, but he will have to anyway, so James is getting ready to make the trip to St. Mungo's; since there's a standing order not to leave Moody to break upsetting news alone, Marlene and Frank undertake the task of sorting out the other casualties. They'll all go in together once they're no longer needed here, and James has a whole afternoon of paperwork to look forward to.

At least he'll get to see Lily after her morning class.

Soon a full Concealment and Befuddlement Operation is in full swing— More Obliviators are called in, Muggle Law Enforcement is told it was a gas leak — again — and the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee has all hands full trying to cover everything up, while half the DMLE are busy clearing off the Inferi from the building and trying to collect evidence from the attic before the whole place comes crashing down.

"Are you okay?" James hears Nina ask Sirius a little later. He just shrugs and nods, but his smile is sad at best. It's no secret to James what he's thinking of— he is torn between relief that his brother wasn't among the attackers and dread about what will happen the day he sees Regulus under a silver mask. It seems like a matter of time, now.

"At least it is still standing," Sirius says, once more trying to cling onto whatever silver lining there is to be had, as he tosses a second Memory Orb at James. He gestures at _his_ building, which is nothing but a mass of broken windows, cracked columns. It has a huge hole that goes from the second to the third storey, from when Sirius dropped the corner onto a group of Death Eaters, with a yell of, "I want to remodel anyway!" James can see some startled pigeons fluttering around inside in a bid for freedom.

One of the birds lands on a broken windowsill.

There is an ominous _creak_.

"No, _no no_ — shoo, you," Sirius mutters, looking horrified for the first time today, and James can't help but bite back a laugh. He isn't imagining it; the building _is_ swaying.

"Aw, _man_ ," Sirius moans, as the first bricks begin to drop. He doesn't even move as the building collapses in on itself an instant later, showering them with dust once more. "That was _prime real estate_."

.

* * *

.

"You see her parents all the time, what's the big deal." Sirius' long legs are on the railing of the Potters' veranda, his Muggle coke precariously balanced on his knees, chair tilted back on two legs, Muggle cigarette lighting up his face every time he takes a drag.

He can't even have a lounge without making it look death-defying.

"Yes, Pads," says James, watching his best friend and resolving not to catch him when his chair slides down from under him. "It's not _them_ I'm worried about, though. Her sister and that beefcake she's engaged to will be there."

"Those are the ones you had the disaster dinner with?"

"We didn't do much eating," James admits. "I promised Lily I'd make it up to them for her, but honestly…"

Sirius ponders this for a moment, then throws his head back and blows another smoke ring.

"That one was awkward, as I recall," he states after a moment. His poker face is firmly in place, but his eyes are dancing with amusement. "That's what you get for showing off your broomstick."

"You're supposed to be _helping_ me here," James protests. "If I wanted a dose of the daily obvious, I'd have made Remus my best man."

"You'll be all right, it's just one dinner." Sirius puts out his fag, turns the butt into a pebble and tosses it into the garden. "'Sides, if you're marrying her anyway, shouldn't you start getting used to her family's obscure Muggle ways?"

James snorts, shakes his head.

"Define obscure."

"Remus is the walking thesaurus, not I. If you want properly-defined words, you ought to make him your best man." James raises an eyebrow; he hadn't thought it would, but Sirius is stung. It's refreshing to see some things can still jolt him.

"Give me some pointers, Pads." James' tone is pleading now. "I _can't_ mess this up — Lily was so upset last time."

Sirius thinks about it for a moment, and James is sure he'll come up with some magnificent insight that will make perfect sense, and it's —

"Don't do magic around them, Prongs."

 _Not_ what he was expecting.

"So glad I've got _you_."

.

* * *

.

On New Year's Eve and despite all the reasonings they give him, Sirius insists on escorting them. James thinks it's because Nina got landed with the Holiday Shift along with half of the rookies on duty, their parents are spending the holiday with the McAlpins, and neither Peter nor Remus are available — James isn't quite sure why, as he watches the negotiations from his corner of the entrance parlour, where he is making sure his Muggle tie isn't crooked.

Lily keeps shooting Sirius looks that are decreasingly fond and increasingly exasperated.

"We _can't_ show up with you, Sirius," she tells him for the third time, and Sirius finally relents.

"All right, all right. I won't go with you."

"This is an important dinner," Lily tells him firmly. "We can't bring you."

"I know, Lily," says Sirius easily, helping her into her coat. "And I promise you, you won't."

"You got your cloak?" Sirius asks James, who mutely shows him it's in his Muggle jacket pocket. "Good."

"What will you do, mate?" James asks him. For an answer, Sirius nods towards his motorbike, which bears the scars of his latest commute to work. Why he keeps repairing and rebuilding the thing, James has no idea, but Sirius is never done fixing his ride. At least he'll be happily occupied.

James, for one, wishes he could bring him; he _is_ his brother, after all, so he could technically get away with it; it's sort of Sirius' family-in-law too, right? He even argued the point.

A bit.

It didn't get him far at all.

Lily is even more nervous than he is, no doubt already expecting him to let her down, and James has no counter-argument to that; he still remembers acting like an arse during that ill-fated double date over Easter, and, well. So does she.

"We're _not_ taking you," Lily repeats warningly, when Sirius hands her a bouquet of flowers for her mum, gives James the bottle of wine for her dad.

"You're not taking me," he confirms with a grin, opens the door for them and bows them magnanimously out of the house. James offers Lily his arm, dearly wishing they could bring Sirius along, or better yet, stay here. There's a lump in his throat, the unfamiliar Muggle clothes feel uncomfortably tight in key places, and he's just _antsy_. "Have fun, you two!"

James and Lily look at each other, and for an instant, their expressions mirror each other's — they're both dreading this.

"I love you," James tells her, kisses her as tenderly as he can. " _Please,_ Lily, don't forget that."

Lily's vibrant laugh is the only part of them that's ringing around the front drive of Godric's Hall a moment later.

.

* * *

.

At first glance, Cokeworth looks every bit as unremarkable as last time, but this little landmark is the current site of James' worst nightmare.

And like any nightmare, it starts off rather unremarkably.

They arrive well before Vernon and Petunia, and Lily's parents, Ash and Daisy, welcome them with open arms and that odd fascination James found so intriguing last time he was here. There are bead curtains and macrame and plump armchairs with embroidered cushions and multicoloured streamers in the small living room, with upside-down protection runes marking the Evanses philosophy of "make love, not war".

That is something James can agree with, and he offers to uncork the wine — which he does, _without_ magic. He even manages to figure out the "corkscrew" by himself.

Lily's parents look a little disappointed, but Lily herself gives him an encouraging smile.

Everything seems to be going well, James manages to pour the wine without getting any on the tablecloth or himself, and Lily can't contain her excitement any longer, shows them the ring he gave her; the cuts from the Fleamont Diamond glittering, forming a lily held by an intricate weave resembling a stag's antlers.

To James' relief, her parents do not run around the room screaming in a panic. They smile at them both, and James is drawn into a hug by an ecstatic Daisy… and then Lily and her mum disappear into the kitchen to begin getting everything ready for dinner—

And leave James alone with her dad, who stops smiling abruptly the instant they're out of sight. Suddenly James wishes he could follow into the kitchen.

"So, you want to marry my daughter."

 _Oh, gods of Quidditch_.

"Yes, sir," he says politely, tries not to sound too defensive. Lily's father nods to himself, swirls his wine around, places it on the coffee table, regarding him impassively.

"So, Lily tells me you're in law enforcement."

"Er, yes," James answers. "I joined the Aurors… it's like a special task force."

"Sounds like a dangerous job."

"It's not _that_ dangerous. It's—"

"Does it pay well?"

"Well enough," James says, shrugging one shoulder. "But I'm not in it for the gold— not that she'll want for anything," he hastens to assure her stone-faced father. "We are… independently wealthy."

"I see," Ash Evans says, regards his wine once again. Takes a sip. James gulps down most of his drink before he realises the interrogation hasn't even properly started yet. He puts his glass down nervously, as a huge, fat tabby strolls across the coffee table and sniffs James' hands.

"That's Tinkles," says Mr. Evans, as Tinkles leaps onto his lap. "He's not very fond of strangers."

"He is a beautiful animal."

"Here, pets are part of the family," Mr. Evans tells him. "Do you have any? Pets?"

"An owl," James informs, realises it's not the right answer either when he sees her father's expression. What is going on here? Mr. Evans was always more easygoing than this…

Then it hits him.

He thought James was just a passing fling. Now it's serious and he isn't quite liking what he sees.

Just then Lily comes out with a tray of cold cuts and cheese, beaming brightly.

"Either of you need a refill?" she offers, picking up the bottle of wine.

" _He_ does," Mr. Evans says, gesturing at James' empty glass. "We'll need another bottle before dinner at this rate," he adds in a much lighter tone than he has been using up until now.

Lily laughs, tops James up, and sits next to him. Her father offers him the tray of snacks.

"Uh," James says, shakes his head. "Thank you."

"You don't like cold cuts?" Mr. Evans asks. Somehow he makes it sound accusing.

"Oh, James is a vegetarian," Lily tells him. "Ever since we were in school." She gives him a smile. "Mum's bringing some things out for you."

"Why don't you eat meat?" Mr. Evans is clearly thinking his poor daughter will have to go without as well.

"It doesn't agree with me," James admits.

"Ah. Weak stomach."

James opens his mouth to protest, but he is saved by the bell— literally.

"I'll get it," Mrs. Evans titters, evidently still in an excellent mood, which is relieving for all of two seconds… until she is ushering Vernon and Petunia inside. "Oh, darling, I am so glad you two made it! Just wait until you hear the brilliant news! Give me your coat, Vernon, there's a dear— oh, _careful_ , careful, now it got into the snacks— oh dear, I hope the olive paste washes off. I'll put some vinegar on it, just one second."

"Hello, Daisy, don't worry about it," Vernon's voice is respectful and aloof, but from here James can see him rolling his eyes. "What is that stuff?"

"Just some crackers with olive paste, for James— you remember James, don't you?"

"… Yes." Vernon mutters, already glaring daggers at him.

 _The pompous prick._

James gets to his feet, as do they all, to welcome Lily's sister and the beefcake. Lily all but jumps up and goes to hug her sister, excited as anything. Petunia only returns it halfheartedly because her mother is right there, the little hag.

Lily offers to take care of the coat's stain for her mum. She taps it with her wand, and it is suddenly good as new.

Vernon and Petunia exchange a look that seems to say, _we'll burn that thing on the way back_.

"You ought to call animal control," Vernon announces next, as they reach the front room. "There is a dog on your front lawn."

"A _dog_?" James choruses along with Lily and her parents. Their tones could not be more different, however: Daisy sounds hopeful, Ash and Lily sound scandalised, and James is just shocked.

"A large one," Petunia supplies, sniffling. "I bet it's a pest-ridden stray."

"Is it black?" James and Daisy ask at the same time.

"Yes…" Vernon says, frowning. "I shall place the call, if you don't mind. I'm sure they work holidays."

"Nonsense," Daisy exclaims, hurries to the front window and turns to her husband. "Ash, it came back! Let's keep it, do go on."

"You know what I think of dogs," Mr. Evans tells her, in a tone that suggests he's had this conversation with her before.

"But _honey_ —" Mrs. Evans puts the ruined plate of snacks on the table, then goes to the kitchen, where clattering can be heard a moment later. "You know what happened last week, a dog would be the perfect addition to our home now the girls are both leaving… Lily, help me with the water."

James takes the chance to peer out the window. It takes him a moment's squinting to spot the large black mass curled up next to a bush.

 _Padfoot?! What the hexing hell are you doing here?!_ Can he help it if he's overjoyed?

 _Working._

 _You call this work? This is Lily's house! Are you insane?_

 _The voices in my head say to tell you I'm not._ He sees white fangs pierce the darkness, Sirius' shining eyes staring at him.

"Vernon, you will _not_ call animal control," Daisy is saying firmly in the background, carrying a large meatloaf in a salad bowl. Behind her, Lily looks a little green, carrying another salad bowl with water. "Put the phone down, go on. Have some wine, we won't be a moment. Help me Lily, darling. James, dear, could you get the door for us? Thank you."

James follows them outside, well aware that even Ash is coming outside and Vernon and Petunia are staring out through the window.

"Here, laddie. Here, here laddie. He's such a lovable stray," Lily's mum says, and even Lily has to bite back a defeated laugh.

"Stray? He looks like a horse with big pointy teeth," Lily's dad says. "What if he bites you, Daisy? We don't even know if it's had its shots."

"Oh, nonsense, he's the best-behaved dog I've ever seen," Daisy counters.

"So you've… _met_ before?" James asks, watches Lily's mum call to Padfoot and place the meatloaf and water on the grass. Padfoot trots over easily, and maybe it's the thoroughly Muggle setting, but he looks even larger than James is used to. Too large.

"There was that dreadful business over Christmas," Daisy says. "There were these… oh, what do you call them?"

"Goths," says Ash. "You know, Alice Cooper types, with those long black coats and wearing silver masks, and they were — I think they were breaking in."

 _Ha ha ha ha,_ Sirius' voice rings out in his head. _Alice Cooper types. These Muggles_. James is too shocked to think anything back at him.

" _What_?" James and Lily are aghast. "What did they do?" James's blood has drained from his face. Lily has his hand in a death grip.

"They were very loud, but he warned us, didn't you? Who's a good, brave boy?" Daisy says, cooing at Padfoot, who looks very proud of himself. He even gives her a paw to shake, his version of a high-five. "You're such a dear," Mrs. Evans beams at him.

 _Death Eaters?_

 _About ten of them_ , Sirius' voice confirms. _They've been targeting parents of Muggleborn witches and wizards._

 _When were you going to tell me?_

 _When it came up? I forgot all about it when you proposed! Don't worry Prongs, I've got this._

Lily bends down to look the dog in the eye.

"So you're a watchdog," she tells him, and Padfoot wags his tail. "What did you do to scare off those hoodlums?"

 _You don't really want to know, Lils._

"I'm not quite sure, we closed the curtains," Daisy admits. "There was this dreadful racket, things breaking and screams— we called the Bobbies, but he had chased them off by the time they arrived."

"You're a good dog!" Lily beams at Padfoot, whose tail is thumping on the grass now. She gives him a kiss on his nose, looks him gratefully in the eye.

"Dogs are filthy. Especially large ones," says Petunia, her nose turned up arrogantly. She gives the dog a nasty look from the doorway.

"And that one's _freakishly_ large," Vernon concurs, grumbling.

"Maybe he's magical?" Lily's mum sounds hopeful. "I've never seen a dog this size."

 _Hey, Mrs. E. You're not as slow in the uptake as the rest of the lot._

 _Watch it, Pads. That's my mother-in-law you're—_

 _Guarding day in and out. Believe me, I know._

"Yeah, maybe he randomly turns into a full idiot," James murmurs so that only Lily can hear. She chokes on a giggle.

"It'll ruin your lawn, Ash. Dig holes all over the place, that sort of thing."

 _So that's your brother-in-law, Vermin,_ Sirius states.

 _Vermin is about right. And that over there is Calumnia, Lily's sister._

"Nonsense, this is the best-behaved dog I've ever seen." Lily's mum has her hands all over Padfoot's fur. "And you've got the softest coat, too. Maybe you do have a family?"

 _I do, yes._

"Let us hope he does. I wouldn't want to get landed with feeding this one. Kibble prices are over the roof."

 _Kibble?!_ Sirius sounds outraged in James' head. He has to bite back a snort.

"Oh, I'd love to keep him, but he never wants to come inside," Lily's mum says, even as Padfoot decides he might as well and trots indoors.

"Yay!" says Mrs. Evans.

Lily groans.

"Watch it! Tinkles!" Mr. Evans yells, hurries inside after him.

 _Oy. I already went._ James can all but hear the eyeroll in Sirius' voice. _Who does this Muggle think I am?_

 _Tinkles is their very arrogant fat_ cat, _Pads_. James has to bite his tongue to keep from laughing out loud. Lily bites her lip, he gives her hand an encouraging squeeze.

"He'll behave," he tells her. "Or else—"

 _Yeah, yeah, you'll rip me a cornucopia of orifices_ , Sirius supplies in his head. When they all troop back inside, Padfoot seems to be getting along famously with Tinkles the cat. His charm, apparently, does carry over to other species.

It seems to mollify Mr. Evans, too.

"See? He's such a good dog," Mrs. Evans says, placing the bowls with meatloaf and water next to the dinner table. "This is for you, Mr. Canine," she tells him.

 _Why, thank you Mrs. Human._

 _Shut up, Sirius. Don't make me laugh_. But, James realises as he pulls a chair for Lily and his best mate curls up at his feet, his every last shred of nerves is gone.

Maybe it's because whatever happens next, he can blame it on Sirius, but this dinner doesn't feel as terrible as it was promising to be.

Once he has ascertained his beloved fat cat will be safe, Mr. Evans changes his tune regarding the potential new addition to the family, to Mrs. Evans's relief.

"Our garden may not be large enough for him, though," he says good-naturedly.

 _It's really not_ , Sirius supplies.

"And we should get him fixed, too."

 _WHAT?!_ Sirius actually gives a yelp, and they all laugh. Except for Vermin and Calumnia, who look like they want to spew their onion soup.

"There's plenty of space at my house," James offers, deciding the joke has gone on long enough.

"Oh yes," says Lily. "And the forest is close by as well. You could come visit him whenever you like," she tells her mum, who looks dubious.

"I would indeed like to meet your parents," Mr. Evans says, and his tone tells James he's not out of the water yet.

"Of course," he answers promptly, sounding every bit as excited as he really isn't. "They will be thrilled to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Evans."

"So, what is the news you wanted to tell us about?" Petunia asks, dabbing delicately at her lips and looking expectantly at her mother.

"Lily is getting married too!"

She might as well have announced the global outbreak of the zombie virus and that everyone is about to die a very gruesome and disgusting death, to judge by the scowls on Vermin and Calumnia's faces.

"To whom?" the neckless wonder has the gall to ask.

"Why, to me," James answers lightly. Under the table, Sirius is shifting around on his belly, inching closer to the fat man's shoes.

"Well, that is _wonderful_ ," Petunia says, in a tone that suggests it's anything but. She glances at Lily's ring, which is quite a bit nicer and larger than hers, and her face contorts into a grimace. James wiggles his eyebrows at Vermin, whose fat face flushes with anger at the sight of the exquisite bit of jewellery. "I didn't think a magician would be a good fit for you."

"James is a wizard, like me," Lily explains patiently. She is smiling, but it is a little uncertain now.

"Yes, yes, same difference," Petunia waves her off. "We also have some news and all," she announces, and Vermin produces two envelopes in elegantly-printed stationery. "We have set a date for our wedding. It will be this spring, and you are…" she gives James a look as though every word tastes badly in her mouth, "you are all invited."

Lily leaps up, all excitement — and, James thinks, innocence — and draws her sister into a huge embrace.

"You have to tell me everything, Tuny!" she exclaims, holding her sister's hands in hers. "I want to be your bridesmaid!"

"Oh… I already have my bridesmaids."

 _That bitch is an insult to bitches everywhere._

 _She's nothing but a hag_ , James agrees, frowning at the way Lily's face falls.

"But, Tuny…"

"You live an unreliable lifestyle, Lily," says Petunia. "I can't let you, I'm sorry."

Sorry is the one thing she will certainly be.

"Have you two thought of a date for your wedding, Lily, darling?" Mr. Evans asks curiously. James isn't fooled, he _is_ trying to make Lily feel better, but he is failing a little in the tact department. He has just turned the weddings into a competition, if Calumnia's expression is anything to go on by.

"We were thinking August, daddy," Lily says, trying to sound and look upbeat and failing. James squeezes her hand again, wishing he could just hex that hag's nose on backwards.

"August will be lovely too," Mrs. Evans tells them, smiling nervously. "Let us eat, the soup is getting cold."

It is also inedible, James establishes a moment later. Everyone looks a little green, but they all valiantly put spoonful after spoonful in their mouths.

"My mum isn't such a great cook," Lily whispers apologetically in James's ear, as the conversation picks up again, now centred around Grunnings drills and the house the Dursley family is looking to purchase. "I'll give you some Digesto-Pep in a minute."

James smiles encouragingly at her, but he doesn't fail to see the sadness in Lily's vibrant green eyes. It makes him wish he could just Muggle-duel the Soon-To-Be-Dursleys.

"What kind of house will you live in, Lily?" Vermin asks Lily nastily.

"We haven't decided yet," Lily admits.

"As long as it is an actual house, I suppose," Petunia sniffles.

"She means, we haven't decided yet which of our houses we will move into," James corrects, and maybe he shouldn't relish their sour looks so much, but he does. Under the table, Padfoot nudges his leg, hard. Lily is staring rather fixedly at her soup. "I mean," James adds, "there's still enough time to find the perfect one."

 _Gods have mercy_ , he thinks to himself. _Make this end, please._

"Christ!" Vernon exclaims suddenly, leaping from his chair. "That damned dog just pis— _relieved_ himself on me!"

.

* * *

.

It ends at precisely half past twelve, just after they have rung in the new year. All around the neighbourhood, people are celebrating, dancing around, and it looks like a very lively party in every house.

At the Evanses, it seems the fun cannot end soon enough, however.

James wishes he could say everything improved after Sirius used Vernon's leg as a pissing tree, but it didn't. By the end of it, even Mrs. Evans had to admit she couldn't possibly keep up with such a large dog, and Lily's parents gratefully accepted James' offer to take him in.

If nothing else, it seems to endear him to Mr. Evans a whole lot.

They also accepted his offer to meet his parents in Godric's Hall — "I bet it's a tuppence village in the middle of nowhere," Vermin grumbled — and the date was set for Sunday a week from now. Predictably, Petunia and Vernon said they were too busy to accompany them.

Lily hugs James goodbye at the doorway, then walks out into the front garden with him and Padfoot. She looks upset, and rather close to tears.

"I'm sorry, Lily," James tells her earnestly, but she shakes her head and forces out a smile.

"It's not you, James — although I must have a word with _you_ , later," she adds to Padfoot, who gives her an unrepentant doggy grin. "I just… I hoped we could get along, but Tuny won't have any of it."

"I love you," James reminds her. "All our friends love you. Even this idiot loves you. Your sister is just… jealous."

"I don't think that's it," Lily tells him. "But you tried, and it meant a lot. I love you too, James."

She gives him a kiss, then turns to Sirius, gives him a scratch behind the ear.

"I'll see you tomorrow, large Mr. Canine, and you will have to tell me everything about those goths and how you chased them off, okay?" Her smile is a little brighter after.

"He says he isn't feeling so well," James informs.

"You _ate mums meatloaf_?" Lily asks incredulously, even as her dad steps out to see what is taking her so long. "You're a brave dog!"

Sirius lets out a whine.

"And you made yourself sick."

"Who's an idiot, eh? Who?" James asks, ruffling Padfoot's fur exactly like Lily's mum did before.

"You know, it serves you right," Lily decides, but she hands James two bottles of Digesto-Pep. "Just have this before you do anything else."

.

* * *

.

James throws himself into his work the very next day. It won't do anything to wash out the taste of his New Year's party, which he calls a partial success at best, but it keeps him busy and from scowling at the world. James knows she is upset that Petunia, that little Muggle hag, won't let her be a bridesmaid. But at least Lily _did_ receive an invitation for the event, which is due sometime in late March.

It's barely enough time to mentally prepare for it, James thinks, flopping down at his desk, which faces that of his mentor and personal nightmare: Alastor Moody.

Today, James is stuck doing Moody's paperwork and Nina is stuck doing Alice's, sorting through reports of sightings of known Death Eaters and other such things and trying to find anything to reduce their overflowing case-load. Neither senior Auror is in today, though — _they_ get holidays off, and James, Nina, and a handful of other rookies are all manning the MLE department's Auror Headquarters.

It's a mark of how strict the Auror Division is that Marlene McKinnon and Amelia Bones both bury themselves in their scrolls, and even Nina isn't up for any light banter this morning. Even if they're close friends, they're not here to play games: they're here to get something _done,_ busy sorting out clues and connecting the dots on the Death Eaters' more obscure operations, trying to find the gossamer strings that could blow one of their open cases onto the coveted "case closed" pile.

Joining the Aurors has been both more and less than James expected — his duelling skills and capacity to see through deception have gotten a workout, and he's learning a lot about stealth and concealment and what to do in case of a magical battle, which is all fun and fascinating — _and_ he's learning loads about the more intricate workings of the Dark Side, criminal investigation methods and the mechanisms of Magical Justice.

And he's learnt everything there is to know about the Ministry's brand of bureaucracy. Boy, does he know about _that_.

James sighs as he peruses some of the notes that have come in through their Floo terminal over the past couple of minutes. He folds them up into paper planes, sends Amelia the reports of a handful of missing Lacewing jars from the Diagon Alley apothecary, sends Marlene the two reports on Muggle-baiting, Nina gets the Magical Creatures reports — Dementors, giants, rogue nifflers, that's her department today. James' job is to sort emergencies from non-emergencies and spot potential Death Eater activity, follow up on anything he finds suspicious.

Two hours in, his desk is cleared and the reports have stopped trickling in. James still has to check the Floo terminal every few minutes. He sits back down, unwilling to think back on last night and Vermin and Calumnia Soon-to-be-Dursley, so he blames his grumpiness on the lack of anything to do.

The Death Eaters seem to have taken the day off. They're probably sleeping off the turn of the year. Like everybody with an ounce of sense.

Even the three Hit Wizards on duty at the far end of the cavernous chamber that houses the Department of Magical Law Enforcement are basically oozing in their lounge. Jazz Shafiq is reading a romance novel, nibbling on a biscuit; Trent Wood, his old Quidditch captain, is stretched out on a sofa, snoring softly; and Marie LeClerq, their French-born squad leader, isn't even wearing her uniform. She's putting slices of cucumber on her eyes, in her nightclothes and bathrobe.

The Aurors call them Cannon Fodder and mock their methods, but on days like this, James envies Sirius for choosing to join the Hit Wizards. _He_ isn't here, of course, Merlin alone knows what he's up to this morning. Probably still comfortably asleep in bed.

Which is admittedly a much more profitable activity than what he's doing here. He's still a rookie Auror, though, will be until Moody considers him ready to partner up with someone, and as such, he's stuck with these inane jobs nobody else wants to do, on a day where Death Eater activity is predictably nonexistent.

He glances longingly at the Hit Wizard Division, which looks _nothing_ like the section that houses the Aurors, convinced for the moment he's made a terrible life choice. He'd welcome a good duel to the death just about now, or at least a game of ping pong. Or one of those daily, exhausting-looking duelling sessions.

Where Auror HQ is filled with desks and case boards and filing rooms — and a tiny kitchen for them to grab a snack, Hit Wizards don't even get desks. _They_ get lounges and comfortable sofas, and their rooms aren't filled with filing cabinets overflowing with dossiers. They have _actual_ bedrooms, a steam bath, they even have a pool — which the Aurors believe is a lie, but James knows better: he sneaks in to swim every time he can. The only thing that remotely suggests any work goes on over there, is their wall of maps. It has been growing steadily over the last six months, when Sirius joined them, and the cubbyholes are now filled with rolled-up magical depictions of virtually every place in Britain and the Isles. Sirius and the other Hit Wizards he got into mapmaking have expanded onto Europe already.

From here, James can see a full map of the UK on the far wall, with little flashing dots on it all over the country — marking eleven ongoing Hit Wizard raids. Red means a mission is going badly. Most of the dots are blue though, just one is yellow, and Shafiq glances at it every so often, but then it goes blue and she is immersed in her book again a moment later.

Hit Wizards don't do paperwork. They don't waste their time with triplicate copies of anything, either (that's for the Aurors to sort out). Everything is committed to memory, every report is in spoken form. They do have a lone filing cabinet next to the wall of maps, where they file dangerous items they get on raids to poke at and dismantle when they're bored — and keep snacks and their ping pong paddles in — but after work, all they do is sit through a debriefing, fill a Memory Orb, and go home. Or, more often than not, St. Mungo's, where they have an entire wing to themselves. Or the St. Mungo's morgue and St. Barnabas's Cemetery for the Magical Community. They also have a section there, but that is one thing James doesn't envy them.

Despite all the perks that come with their job, there's rarely more than eighty Hit Wizards in their roster. Their numbers keep dwindling, not rising. Aurors, on the other hand, number in the hundreds, and more pour in every few months, when the three-month basic training is completed and their admission examinations passed.

James has heard Aurors talk about how the average life expectancy of a Hit Wizard has dropped from one year to a couple of months since the war intensified. He figures it comes with the territory — where others run away from danger, it's the Aurors' job to run towards it, but the Hit Wizards are expected to take a plunge into it. Even Aurors have something resembling a safety code, which is notoriously absent from Sirius' division of loose cannons and death-defying stunts.

Maybe this is why they don't waste any time with bureaucracy — they're loosely organised, with no hierarchy beyond the Head of the Division (Old Shacklebolt since times immemorial), two squadron chiefs, and their Unit Leaders, who get temporary command for a mission and are constantly rotating. Every Hit Witch or Wizard is expected to think for themselves, with one goal in mind — keep deaths to a minimum.

There's no rookies among the Hit Wizards, either. No ladder to climb. Their usual training lasts for six months to a year, and by the end of it new additions are considered a full part of the team. Sirius breezed through his in a month, but then, he's been getting ready for it since Fifth Year, secured his spot during an internship he did in the Summer when he decided to not follow James' example for once.

Where Aurors have a strict code to follow, Hit Wizards work in units that are picked and rearranged depending on the "job". Each Hit Wizard or Witch earns their place based on their skills and abilities, and James is well aware that most of them run circles around the Aurors regarding law enforcement technique; they're not just muscle, and James has seen firsthand how Sirius' tactical and battle skills have improved with their insane training regime. It is a gruelling thing, even by their own standards, which, James supposes, is nothing _but_ fun and games for Sirius and his teammates. They're all as insane as he is, like a Quidditch team made up entirely of hyperactive Beaters.

He has also seen how exhausted his friend is, whenever he comes home. For endless hours every day, he's constantly challenged, tested, pushed to the limit. _Doze and die_ , is their motto, so it's not a wonder that over there, they fool around and relax whenever they can. James figures he'd want to let off steam with a prank war too, if he had to face the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange and her cronies every time he went to work.

Sirius fits right in with that lot; for once, he's somewhere where he ticks all the boxes, and it's not a wonder that by the end of his trial period Shacklebolt took him under his wing, a dubious honour at best. His job is to predict what the Dark Side will do, offer strategies, come up with potential battle scenarios. Test others' duelling abilities. Take on the more dangerous jobs. He's been at HQ for five months, and already he's got a squad under his command. It sounds like a lot, but it really isn't — at any time, there's seven old-timers like Kingsley's dad and forty-four others on duty, while the other half is resting or preparing their ops. That's a task force of less than one-hundred.

For an entire country at war.

And they hold their own, James has witnessed it firsthand. Usually, at least one Hit Wizard goes with the Aurors on raids, to take care of the dicier bits of the operation, trip any deadly traps before someone gets hurt. Sometimes, when it's particularly bad, there's more, but James hasn't seen more than five of them on his riskier missions. Then he imagines what it would take to get all of them together, and shudders at the thought. Usually one is enough, especially if that someone is Sirius Black.

James doesn't generally envy Sirius for his choices, but today, it's damn hard. Sirius gets to go home after a job, provided he's right back within two minutes of a call coming in, hands in crates of Memory Orbs every week, which rookie Aurors like James then have to turn into reports on parchment in triplicate, sort out, add to the dossiers for the Legal Division of the MLE.

Sometimes he feels like he's Sirius' secretary.

The Hit Wizards _do_ have something resembling a desk, though — it's a massive table that holds forty-five seats, which they use to plan operations, decide on strategies for raids, pore over maps, or study new duelling spells from their overflowing library. James has also seen them use it as a stage for impromptu rock concerts, ping-pong tournaments, even as an extra bed when they're tired.

He checks the Floo grate automatically — nothing.

Just as he's about to flop back on his desk, the door to the gym opens, and out walk three very battered Hit Wizards James doesn't know the names of. It's hard to tell who they are, they're covered in soot and goo and what looks like feathers — indicating their obligatory four daily hours of mock battles and duelling (where new opponents are added every handful of minutes) didn't go as planned. They're all grins and things, though, take their mates' mockery in stride, and warn Shafiq not to go in until the air in gym one has cleared. Five minutes later they're back in fresh uniforms, and the three sloths oozing in the lounge go to get their own training in. James realises that he knows them, that's Caradoc Dearborn and Marlene's eldest brother, Mordecai, with Emmeline Vance.

James wishes he could join them — until there's a _ding!_ from the fireplace and his day is made. Moments later, he's leaving Bones to deal with his reports and goes to the Apparition Deck. Something has finally happened, and he gets to look into it.

At the very least, he'll get some air.

He's handled this kind of anonymous reports before, and his smile is genuine when he lets Nina and the rest know where he's going, tries not to bask too obviously in their envious expressions, even refrains from mocking them for having to stay in, buried under a pile of scrolls. Instead, he trades his red outer robes for a Muggle-style trenchcoat and apparates away.

He and Moody have been poking at a suspicious series of Muggle disappearances in London's East End for weeks — and this mysterious informant seems to have something that could unstick their case.

He looks warily in every direction as his feet materialise in a dark alley overflowing with rubbish and the freezing cold and disgusting smell slam into him full force — the Muggles' energy crisis is hitting a very, very low point at this time, and services aren't what they used to be when he was a kid. James gathers his bearings, casts a handful of detection spells before he makes his way to the corner of the small close that will take him to Queensbridge Road.

He's supposed to meet this informant in Haggerston Park at eleven sharp, so he takes off at a jog, already tensing for action in case it's a trap. Only… there's nothing at all to suggest it is one. James makes his way past a handful of Muggles hurrying along the frostbitten paths to a cluster of trees nearby, where he spots a cloaked shadow.

"I was starting to think you wouldn't come," a voice says, and James is taken aback. He _knows_ that voice, and when the speaker turns around to look at him, he stares at him in shock.

He hasn't seen Regulus in a long time, and he doesn't look like he's barely seventeen. More like he's going on forty.

All he heard from Sirius in the Summer, was that his little brother was leaving Hogwarts after completing his OWLs, allegedly to begin an apprenticeship at some uncle's law firm. Regulus and Sirius hadn't parted in the best of terms, but that happened long before they both left school — Regulus enjoys being The Black way too much, embraced his family's pure-blood mania with heart and soul, and Sirius has suspected for years he'll end up joining the Death Eaters. Rumour has it, he already did, the instant he got off the Hogwarts Express.

"You sent the note," James says warily. Something doesn't feel right — and Moody always stresses to get the hell out quick if he gets a gut feeling, to let the Hit Wizards spring the traps. He supposes it's because it's Sirius' little brother there, and he is curious. How could Reg even know about the Muggle disappearances? _Unless_ —

"I need to talk to you," Regulus tells James, looking left and right nervously. "I heard Cousin Bella talking about your case over dinner. How you're hitting at air, grasping at straws."

"We're _not_ —" James protests, his ego stung.

"I have something that can help you figure it out."

"Why should I believe a word you have to say?" James asks, casting a detection spell without his wand. It returns nothing. Regulus is indeed alone, and the smell of nerves is reaching his nostrils. He _isn't_ faking it; maybe he's not as far gone as Sirius thinks, and wouldn't that make his brother's day.

"You don't have to, of course," Regulus says grimly. "But I really want to think I'm not risking being labelled as a blood traitor over talking to you for nothing."

"Let's hear it, then," James prompts, follows Regulus to a more secluded area of the park.

"Well, I was having dinner with Cousin Bella, as I said," says Regulus, his features tight, eyes darting every which way like he's fearing the Death Eaters to show up any minute.

James is tempted to comfort the kid. There's nobody around.

"She was telling me how easy it was to fool you Aurors, and I must say," Regulus adds, gives him a minute, arrogant smirk. "She wasn't wrong."

James has just enough time to register his shock, for it to morph into alarm.

" _Confringo_!"

The Bone-Shattering Curse hits him square in the chest before he can even react. James is sent flying backwards, slams into a tree before he can retaliate. His wand clatters out of reach.

 _Shite_ , he thinks, as he slides down to the ground in a heap. The last thing he registers is a whooshing sound, the last thing he sees is a familiar pair of biker's boots landing not a foot in front of him.

.

* * *

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TBC.

As I said, _derailed_. Not sure if it will get back on track, but Shayde123 was kind to let me digress. I hope she'll still like this.

If you did (or didn't) like it, though, let me know! Any opinion is welcome, and it helps me loads to see if what I'm doing pans out or not.

 **Next up:** we take a classic DND-style detour into battleville. Apologies. Lily is a better Healer than her marks suggest, Sirius has been acting stranger than usual for entirely too long and begins raising eyebrows, and the Evanses visit Godric's Hall and complain about the new generation's penchant for tramping about in long coats and masks like it's Halloween.


	3. Three: The Darker Side of Things

**Disclaimer:** I did say there was _loads_ of Sirius in this fic, right? Just making sure. Okay. You may insert the disclaimer of your choice here, then.

* * *

 **In this Chapter:** We interrupt the wedding prep to scratch an itch and blow stuff up (yay!), Regulus is a scene stealer, Sirius is a badass, the Dark Side is full of badasses and has a plan apparently, James impersonates a rag doll or a heap of dirty laundry (depending on the angle), Lily has good instincts, and Sirius is making eyebrows rise with his methods.

A/N: Yes, yes, it's got nothing to do with the wedding, the Dursleys didn't even make it into this one, and suddenly Reg got more than a cameo. But my point still stands: WAR, peeps. Also, we will resume our regularly scheduled fluffy and romantic fic next week.

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I'm just kidding.

* * *

 **Three: The Darker Side of Things**

* * *

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Becoming a Death Eater has not quite been what Regulus expected it would be. Sure, he enjoys Muggle baiting and blowing up bridges as much as the next guy, but sometimes the Dark Lord, that fascinating creature that has them all enthralled, seems to go out of his way to annoy him with petty requests.

Like when he tasked him with bringing him Sirius's head on a silver platter.

If he is honest with himself, Regulus wasn't surprised. Part of him was half expecting it, he realised when he was given the order.

 _"_ _My Lord," he answered, bowing. "You honour me. However, better wizards than I have tried and failed—"_

 _"_ _True, my young friend. But none of them are his beloved baby brother. Will you do me this service?"_

 _What else could he say but, "Of course."_

So now, three days later, Regulus has come up with a plan — a bloody good plan at that. And he'll give the Dark Lord much more than just Sirius's head. He's wanted Potter for years, and Potter is incidentally the key to getting Sirius. They've been a package deal for as long as Regulus can remember.

Potter is laughably easy to lure. He honestly doesn't see it coming when Regulus's spell slams into him. Even then he looks surprised more than anything, as if his little Gryffindor mind can't conceive treason at all. Sirius did say he could trust this blood-traitor, that he would help him where nobody else would. He is a little surprised that even after all these years, the promise still holds true.

Not that it matters anymore.

Regulus congratulates himself for his boldness — usually Death Eating is done from the safety of the shadows, cunningly and out of sight. They aren't exactly renowned for their courage, are they. That's what he was counting on. That, and the hope to see what James thought of him in reality. He did wonder if his brother's friend was still naive enough to give him the benefit of the doubt.

He isn't disappointed.

Now he just needs to grab Potter and apparate him to the abandoned Muggle warehouse he's filled with traps, to lure Sirius in this time — his former brother will certainly tear half the city apart trying to find this idiot — and Regulus will make sure Sirius meets his end there.

Like Mother is fond of saying, the world will become a better place once he's gone.

Regulus is pretty certain he believes it.

He is reaching out to Potter's fallen form — when a whooshing sound makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Regulus leaps back, his wand at the ready.

How can Sirius be _here_ already?

 _How_?

But he is, looking murderous, his eyes flashing daggers at Regulus.

 _Well_ , Regulus thinks, _they don't call him Potter's Watchdog for nothing._

"What the hell do you think you're doing, you moron?!" Sirius erupts, as though the last time they spoke was this morning and not three years ago.

Sirius has grown since then. He doesn't stand anymore; now he _towers_ , seventeen stone of muscle and raw power. Regulus's first thought is, _he looks intimidating_. His second thought, _he looks like a younger version of Father._ But even that doesn't do him justice.

Regulus suddenly understands why all his relations hate him so much: Sirius looks like he's better than all of them.

 _And maybe he is_ , Regulus muses, as Sirius crouches down to make sure Potter isn't dead yet, does something that makes him glow, and the death rattle that is Potter's breathing becomes a laboured sort of wheeze.

"What did you do to him?!"

"Just a little something something," Regulus says, trying hard to keep his tone casual, but inwardly he is cursing his bad luck. If he had only apparated away with Potter a _second_ sooner, Sirius would now be falling into his carefully-laid trap. Here, there's just fog and trees and a fountain and the eternal drizzling cold. "But forget about him. It's _you_ I was sent to collect, brother."

"Oh, _really_?" Sirius snorts, glances down at James, then back at him. _"You_." He sounds disbelieving.

"It's oddly fitting, isn't it." Regulus retorts. "I'll get to finish what the Dark Lord started, all those years ago."

"So, you finally tied the knot. Mummy's brave little Muncher." Sirius's tone is light, contrasts with his expression of barely-contained rage. He is doing something to Potter, Regulus isn't sure what, nor does he care. His eyes are fixed on Sirius's insolent smirk, the one that shows just a bit of teeth. "Or should I throw metaphors out the window and just call it a noose and you an utter _idiot_?"

For some reason unknown to him, this makes Regulus furious.

" _You_ were hand-picked, selected for great things, Sirius! And you spat on them all! I am honouring _our_ heritage, fighting for _our_ rights! You're just a… a filthy _blood-traitor_!"

"Somehow that's still less of an insult than Death Eater," Sirius points out lightly. How does he _do_ it? He doesn't even look angry anymore, now he's gotten a reaction. "You're amassing quite the collection: The Black, Death Eater, Murderer. Utter Idiot. Father would be proud. Prouder yet if you make it all the way to Bastard."

"I'm not a murderer! Shut up."

"What, you don't like it? A murderer is, after all, just an extroverted suicide. Never pegged you for anything but an introvert, Credulous Regulus."

The childhood nickname makes him bristle.

"What about _you_? The Potters' _Watchdog_?" Regulus rejoins mockingly. "Scum and filth and _shame_ , that's what you are. Turning your back on your family, on your _birthright_ , just to put your lot in with dirt and half-breeds."

"Absolutely. Don't forget the Muggles," Sirius reminds him, turns his back on him as he crouches next to Potter, casts a few healing spells on him. "I threw in my lot with them too. But can you blame me? I'm just not as good at Blacking as you. I hear you've done quite well for yourself since your Accession, though."

It's not until Sirius turns to face him again that Regulus realises he's just let an opportunity to kill him slip by.

"You left an open door, Sirius. All I had to do was stroll through." Regulus gives him a cold smile. "And now you _will_ open another one for me, when I deliver you to the Dark Lord."

"Sounds convenient."

"You have no idea," Regulus answers. "When I bring you in, I shall be made a hero in the Dark Lord's eyes. Just imagine the praise, Sirius. Imagine the _honour_ you will bring the House at last."

"So, I'm your bargaining chip towards…?"

"The highest rank in the Inner Circle. Anything I want. Forever."

Sirius considers this for a moment, during which those unsettling eyes seem to look right through him. Regulus wants to find betrayal in them, disappointment, reproach — hatred. A hint of fear. Something. _Anything_ to make this easier.

Trust Sirius to give him _nothing_. Nothing but a long, thoughtful look.

"I'll even take him to the hospital, after," Regulus promises, nods towards Potter. Right now, he's even willing to make good on it, but he knows he won't. So does Sirius.

"No, Mr. Death Eater. You came for me," Sirius says at length, while Potter groans on the frozen ground. "Well, here you have me."

Regulus fires off a Stunning Jinx. It dissolves in a flash of sparks. Sirius barely _moved_. He laughs again, like he used to when he taught Regulus to duel.

"Whoops, sorry." Just as Regulus cannot hide his anger, Sirius can't hide his amusement. "Sorry, my bad. Force of habit. I'll behave." He rolls his shoulders, cricks his neck, jumps in place a couple of times, as though he's about to go for a run. He then puts his wand in his inner coat pocket, stands very still, glances somewhere to his right— Regulus turns, but there's nobody there. "Okay, go ahead. Do better than a Stunner, please."

"I was told to bring only your head," Regulus informs, aims his wand carefully between Sirius's eyes. He can't miss at thirty feet, and he's at half that distance. He _won't_ miss.

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, THEN?" Sirius bellows suddenly, and Regulus gives a little jump. The Killing Curse gets stuck in his throat. "A _WRITTEN INVITATION_?"

Regulus swallows, startled. When he aims his wand again, his hands are trembling.

"Go on! Take your shot!" Sirius challenges, arms open wide. He takes a step forward, Regulus takes one back before he knows what he's doing, fires a Beheading Jinx that hits a tree to Sirius's left.

"I _know_ you can do better than that," comes next. Regulus hopes he'll die with that obnoxious grin on his face. The Dark Lord would appreciate it. "Go _on_ , give it another go," he prompts, and he's _laughing._ It doesn't reach his eyes, but still—

Regulus hasn't heard that laugh in _ages_.

Suddenly he is reminded of a dawn as frosty as today, spent skipping stones with _his_ brother, when Sirius still protected Regulus like he's protecting James Potter, even after the part he played in getting him blasted off the family tree. Back when he still cared about him.

 _"_ _I'll figure it out, Reggie. I'll do_ something _about it. I promise."_

 _"_ _What can you do?"_

 _"_ _All I_ can _do, all_ anyone _can do, is delay it. You know that, don't you? He'll ask you sometime. Directly. What you say then, is entirely up to you."_

 _"_ _If I say no…"_

 _Sirius winced, then. Swallowed._

 _"_ _You might not be able to. But," he added, with something like hope, "he might not dare."  
_

Voldemort _hadn't_ asked him to join, in the end. Regulus had gone to him.

He still isn't sure what Sirius did, but he must admit, he has lived a charmed life since. Even his Accession to the head of the Blacks was Sirius's plan all along. He _manipulated_ them into disowning him, didn't he, put Regulus in a position where he's as close to untouchable as he can get. _Nobody_ has hurt him again, not Mother, not his cousins, not even the Dark Lord dares to touch a hair on his head, and Regulus has taken full advantage of this opportunity.

If Mother is to be believed, he has become the youngest Black to have this sort of power by his own hand.

Regulus has even convinced himself that all of it, _all of it,_ has been his own achievement, that Sirius ceased to exist for him after he got himself kicked out of the family for being a disgrace, a piece of filth, fit only to become a stuffed head in the Dark Lord's trophy chamber, to be used as currency for an exchange.

 _"_ _What did you do?" Another dawn, the last time Regulus felt afraid, truly afraid._

 _Sirius shrugged, "Something I should have done long ago. You'll be all right, Reggie. She won't do anything like that again. Nobody will."_

 _"_ Really _?"_

 _"_ _Really, really."_

Sometimes, he remembers the truth of it: Sirius lost everything — his inheritance, his birthright, his status, his family. Gave it all to Regulus, on a silver platter and with his best compliments.

He sometimes still wonders why Sirius would do such a thing.

Less so, of late.

 _He_ certainly wouldn't, and therein lies the difference between the two of them, he supposes. Regulus knows how _much_ his life is worth.

Sirius on the other hand...

"Will you hurry _up_? How long does it take you to bloody _aim_?" He lets his arms fall at his sides, shakes his head in disbelief. "What kind of Death Eater are you?"

" _Iulgura_!" Regulus snaps. The neon yellow spell leaves his wand in a perfect arch—

"Could you be any _worse_ of a shot?" Sirius is still standing in front of him, still daring him to kill him. Like this isn't, well, serious. Regulus's next spell hits the ground at his feet, sprays him with clumps of frozen dirt. " _Come on_ , don't draw it out, Mr. Death Eater, _sir_!"

Cocky as he sounds, Sirius _isn't_ joking.

 _"_ _I will be there for you, whenever I can. In any way I can, Reggie."_

He'd promised to look out for him, that night, and now Regulus wonders what Sirius has done to keep that promise— because he is doing that even _now_ , despite it all.

Sirius _will_ let him kill him, won't he. He's making it easy, even. All Regulus has to do is—

" _Seriously_?" He looks as incredulous as Regulus feels as another tree is felled, that Slashing Curse grazed him at best. It's hard to tell. "Honestly, it's like you're not even trying."

Regulus feels like apologising— he doesn't know what's wrong. He _is_ trying here. He settles for sending a Bombing Curse at him, hears — or thinks he hears — a wince, amid the flying debris from the fountain and smoke and burning. Maybe he finally hit him. Maybe he'll shut up at last, let Regulus bring his head back in triumph, to be praised by the entire Dark Side for years to come—

"Right, you're just embarrassing yourself now."

Regulus swallows dryly, aims his shaking wand at Sirius again, who is clearly visible now the smoke begins to lift, arms crossed and impatient, exasperated, _annoyed_. As though he's coming to the conclusion this is a waste of time, while Regulus tries to ignore the sickening sensation welling up deep inside him, blocks out his every last memory of Sirius, of a childhood spent blindly trusting a brother who never once let him down, who's not even letting him down _now_.

 _Pops_ and _bangs_ from people apparating reach his ringing ears, and Regulus gives a start. Sirius smirks.

"Uh-oh, the Aurors are here," Sirius says wryly. "You'll have to hurry up now, Mr. Death Eater, sir! Or are you expecting _me_ to do this for you, too? What sorry excuse for a _Black_ are you?"

That last— the very words Father used to bestow on Sirius every time he set eyes on him— finally does it.

Anger wells up in Regulus, and he clings to it. He _has_ to do this, he _must_ — and then, when it's over, he'll get that annoying voice out of his head, forget he ever even had a brother. The Waters of Lethe are in his pocket already, it'll take just one swig, and he'll never have to feel this way again; like he's betraying the very person who least deserves it.

He casts in quick succession — Beheading Curse, Throat-Cutting Jinx, three Blasters one after the other, a Shattering Curse — even as loud yelling tells him the Aurors have arrived.

"COME ON, YOU _IDIOT_! NOT THE _TREES_ , HIT _ME_! YOU'RE NOT EVEN _TRYING_!" Sirius bellows, past the rain of falling debris all around him. Regulus's eyes widen in shock.

He couldn't do it.

He _can't_.

 _Why_?

Sirius doesn't seem to understand it, either. He just stares at him, his expression unreadable.

"You had your one chance, Reggie."

Regulus knows what that means. He gives Sirius a last, apologetic look.

Then he's gone.

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* * *

.

They find Sirius bending over James, trying to revive him in the middle of what looks like a bombing site. In the few minutes it took Nina to bring reinforcements, half the park has been utterly destroyed.

This is _not_ how she expected the first day of the year to go. And it _had_ all been predictable, and perfectly boring until Sirius arrived at Auror Headquarters not ten minutes after James left, out of breath and yelling, "WHERE DID HE GO?!"

Nina decided to go with him. She'd seen part of the exchange with his brother, had gotten Sirius's signal to get help— but saying that things have changed _dramatically_ over the past five minutes is a bit of an understatement, even for her.

"Is he—" she asks, fearing the worst as she skids to a halt next to Sirius and James.

"He's alive," Sirius tells her, carefully picking James up to put him on a stretcher the Medi-Wizards have laid out for him. "Let's make sure it stays that way."

"Yes, sir!" the Medi-Wizards chorus, and an instant later, they've got a myriad spells in place. Nina looks at Sirius, but she can't tell if he is hurt at all. He isn't acting the part as he instructs the Aurors to secure the scene and call in the Befuddlers, but when she asks what happened, he only shakes his head.

"Later," he tells her. That means it's worse than she thought.

They take James to the Hit Wizards' ward in St. Mungo's, where word has gotten around by the time they arrive. A team of Healers is standing by to rush him off to Casualty, and Lily shoves past them in her hurry, slams the door to the Casualty room in their faces. Sirius raises his eyebrows, earnestly stunned; sometimes, he still seems to forget he isn't the only one who cares about James more than life anymore.

Nina steers him to a nearby chair, promises to return with a hot drink after she's sorted out what needs to be sorted. Sirius nods absently, fixes his eyes on the floor tiles between his feet. This isn't unexpected— he's done his part, and he's settling in for what could well be a long wait. Nina still directs one of the Healers to have a look at him, but the poor wizard is sent packing with an irritated gesture before his Diagnostic Charm is even out.

"I'm sorry, Auror McAlpin— he won't allow it." And it appears the Healers, too, have learnt the hard way that if Sirius doesn't allow something, it's best not to try again for fear of pissing him off.

"I'll take care of it," Nina promises, signing the forms for James's admission and hurrying through her report to Auror HQ. She notifies Moody, picks out the Auror guard, sends another report to the Hit Wizards with a recommendation to not call Sirius again until he's been checked over by the Healers.

When she returns, Sirius is sitting right where she left him, his expression drawn and unapproachable. That's never stopped her, though.

"Did he get you?" Nina asks, sitting down next to him. Sirius shrugs one shoulder.

"He got something," he answers quietly.

"Did he get you with a spell?"

"No. I'm alright." He nods towards the far end of the corridor, where a familiar sort of commotion is rocking the hospital already. "Moody's looking for you."

 _Moody can shout his bloody throat raw if he wants_ , Nina thinks, this is more important. She takes Sirius's face in her hands as he turns to look at her, searches his eyes for some insight.

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, honest," he answers. She supposes it's only half a lie, this time. "I'll see you when you're done." Nina plants a kiss on his lips, knocks their foreheads lightly together.

"I'm not going anywhere, Sirius. Not until we know he's out of the water." She gets a tiny, tight smile for her efforts. Nina wraps her arms around him, and he leans into her hold, his face buried into the crook of her neck. She gestures for the Healers to cast their Diagnostic Charms. The three of them give her a shrug a moment later. Incredible as it is, there is nothing that warrants immediate attention.

"It was Reg," he tells her in the same quiet tone.

"I saw," Nina says, holds him a little tighter. Sirius gets comfortable against her. " _Are_ you alright? Really?"

"Yes." She can feel his smile against her skin. "But don't stop. I do like it when you cuddle."

"I meant—"

"He was inducted recently, I'm guessing," Sirius tells her, past a mouthful of shoulder, and he sounds so business-like, she pulls away to look at him. She expected him to be upset, angry at least, not to talk about it as though Regulus is just another name in the Ministry's blacklist. "There was a rumour he joined up in August… There was nothing definitive, though — I couldn't be sure. At least," he shrugs, and there's the barest hint of sadness in his eyes. "At least now we know, right?"

"I'm so sorry."

"He's been itching to be a big bad Muncher for years. It was a matter of time, Nina… and you know, time has a way of catching up."

"You're not angry?" She gives him a dubious look.

"I _was_ ," Sirius admits, "when I found out what he would choose if given the chance." He gives her a little shrug. "But three years in, I'm coping." He snuggles up to her again, lets out a sigh. "If you're ever sent to go check out an informant on your own, call me, okay? I'll go with you."

"I promise," Nina tells him.

"Or," he adds, "if you just feel like having me around. Call me then, too."

This makes her smile.

"You two lovebirds give the MLE a bad name."

"Bullshit," says Sirius, glancing up at Moody. "We make it look _good_."

"I'll need a debriefing, Black."

"Give it here, then." Sirius holds out his hand, gestures for Moody to give him the Memory Orb. He focuses for a moment, holds the glass sphere against his temple, where it fills up to bursting with silver strands. He hands it back to the Auror. "Now go away."

"No," Moody rasps firmly. "I meant a _real_ debriefing. Let's go, both of you."

"If you want a debriefing so badly, we'll do it here," Sirius grumbles, straightening up. "I'm not going _anywhere_ until I know how he's doing."

"Now listen here, you little punk—"

"No. It's _you_ who's got to listen," Sirius erupts, on his feet— and now he is radiating the very sort of anger Nina had been expecting to burst out. "I don't care if you had a family get-together, your auntie's burial, or were getting another bloody limb replaced— he's _your_ trainee, it's _your_ duty to make sure he doesn't get hurt, and you might have an all-seeing bloody eye, but your incompetence is mind-blowing." He gives Moody a dirty look, and the older Auror has the grace to look abashed.

"It was a routine job," Moody argues. "We take dozens of anonymous statements like that one every day!"

It's the wrong thing to say to Sirius, just now.

"We are at _war_ , in case you haven't noticed— so, unless your bloody division starts using the buddy system for _everything_ , I'll make sure each of you is babysat by one of _us_. Your choice, old man. You know my lot won't like it, but they'll _do_ it, and I'll bloody make sure you get the crankiest of them all— _me_."

To Nina's — and Sirius's — surprise, Moody grins, with— is that relief? Annoyance? A dare? She can't tell. The old Auror's every expression looks feral.

"Is that a _promise_ , Black?"

"It's _something_ , old man." Sirius's eyes are flashing furiously, and Nina sees Moody's laugh die in his throat. "Try me, if you want to find out."

.

* * *

.

The Casualty Ward is usually the busiest part of the wizarding hospital; however, lately it is nothing but crowded — Aurors and Hit Wizards and random witches and wizards of all ages mill about, each struggling with their own brand of anxious worry. Giving the Hit Wizards and Aurors their own wing only helped so much, and even here it's full of people.

For the Healers, especially trainee Healers like herself and Charlotte Hooch, it is its own brand of nightmare. Everyone wants immediate attention, everyone needs help, or reassurance, or a report. There has been talk of plans to expand the ward, to fuse parts of the Spell Damage and Dark Curses Wards with Casualty, but right now, that's all they are. Plans on parchment and budgetary discussions.

In the meantime, the magical hospital is so understaffed, Medi-Wizard training has become a requirement for all new Healing Students, so they can at least help with patient care whenever a wave of injuries pours in. It makes for longer hours on duty — she wasn't even supposed to cover a shift until a year from now — and less time to study, but it gives her and her fellow classmates a hell of a lot of hands-on training.

Today, though, Lily feels more like a bereaved family member than a Healer; all the careful knowledge and practise she's amassed over the past six months have gone out the window before she's even set eyes on James.

She has seen the boys come in in all states of bashed-up over the past few months — but it's rarely truly grave; usually, it's stuff she can patch up at home (and does, Sirius loathes the hospital).

Not so today.

James's injuries are extensive, and though he has gotten the necessary initial emergency treatment — at this point, she can recognise Sirius's magical signature at a glance — he is hanging on by a thread by the time she gets to see him at all.

She has seen what Bone-Shattering Curses do, but this one was cast at point-blank range and she can't conceive what would have made James let anyone come so close to him without a shield in place.

Lily isn't allowed to dwell on it— despite this being someone she loves with all her heart, she _is_ a Healer, the hospital _is_ understaffed, and trembling hands or no, it's all Restoring Charms and Blood-Replenishing Potions and Bone-Reconstructing Spells for _hours_ , and she's almost indecently grateful for Healer Castle, who snaps and yells and curses at her and the other trainees until they're nothing but focus as they scramble to obey his every order, until—

"Right, he's out of the water. Don't even look away for one second, you—" here Grigori Castle fixes Samuel Yao, a Second-Year Casualty Healer with an unforgiving stare, and Yao gives a jump, a wide-eyed nod. "If he so much as breathes wrong, I want you to call me and get a Reviving Station ready. Evans, go wash up and take five to get those Aurors out of here. Don't worry, not even Yao can mess up while you take a breather. No more than five, you'll be in charge," he warns, and Lily nods tightly.

It's hard to believe only two days ago, he was mourning his sister's death; today, Cranky Castle is back in business, his dishevelled hair and three-day stubble an indicator of how long he's been on duty. It tells Lily loads about her career choice, of what is demanded of her now.

Not only the Battle Wizards have it hard; Healers aren't allowed a respite, either. They might be on opposite ends of the war effort — a round business, as Sirius said, when she announced she'd been accepted at St. Mungo's as a student: "We break 'em, you fix 'em. It's a win-win." — but in the end, they're working towards the same goal: Saving lives.

Only, they put their own safety at risk; Lily is mostly risking her sanity. She hadn't really expected to be helping save her loved ones and closest friends almost every day, but it seems like she sees them more often than she had even in school.

She washes up as fast as she can, changes into a set of mint-green robes that isn't covered in James's blood, and hurries to look in on Sirius and the rest of James's team to put their minds at ease.

By the time she gets to the crowded waiting room, though, her composure begins to crumble. When she sees an ashen Sirius suddenly standing in front of her, takes a single look into those eyes that tell her volumes… it evaporates completely. Then it's all sobs and clinging and she can't stop shaking no matter how hard she tries, and he holds her, tells her it's going to be okay, James is stronger than this— He'll recover, because that's what James does, every time. Sirius tells her what she came out to tell _him_. He has no context, no way of knowing, but he hopes with every fibre, reassures her as best he can, because that's what _he_ does, every time.

And it works.

"He'll be okay," she sobs out her confirmation, to the collective exhale of the Aurors now gathered around her, and Sirius holds her tighter, kisses the top of her head, radiating a contagious sort of relief. "He's stable, but— it was a close call. So close."

"Too close," he agrees with her. "I'm sorry, Lily. I didn't know."

"No, don't. You got the reviving charms spot on," she tells him. "I'll take him home as soon as they let us, look after him there." She looks up at Sirius, places a hand on his stubble-covered cheek, but she's reverting into Healer mode.

"Did _you_ get checked over?" He never does unless he's made to, and his robes are torn, he's covered in dust and dried blood. Next to him, Nina nods her confirmation unobtrusively, without him noticing.

"I'm good. Look after him, yeah?" he says unnecessarily, wipes the tears from her face and gives her an encouraging smile. "I'll be home later, help you get him settled."

By the time she returns to James's side, the Aurors have mostly scattered. Sirius is allowed to look in on James for a minute, but the next, he is gone Merlin-knows-where again, and only Nina and Alice are left, standing guard outside James's door. Not an hour later, Yao is called off on another emergency arrival, and her friends decide to take their guard inside his room, the door open and several shields in place.

Lily makes sure James is as comfortable as she can make him, focuses as best she can on applying the potions on his closing wounds every few minutes, listens in on his breathing, but whatever she can do is short-lived in comparison to the wait for him to wake up.

Cranky Castle peers in on her and checks James over, tells her to monitor his vitals every five minutes for the next two hours, and she gives him a grateful nod; it's his way of giving her a break.

She watches James's pale, drawn face in silence, wishing he'll move or wake up, or _something_ , and she can't believe only last night she was ready to strangle him and Sirius for their behaviour at her parents', for the way James kept needling Vernon and competing with him — now, she'd give _anything_ to have him at his most obnoxious and pig-headed.

That is when she realises, yet again, how much she really loves him. No matter how insufferable he can be, she loves James Potter with all her heart, and now he's out of danger, she can admit to herself how terrified she is of losing him.

"Here, Lily, you look like you need a cuppa," Alice Longbottom says, hands her some hot tea, sits on a guest chair next to her.

"He'll be all right," Nina reminds her, sitting down on her other side. Lily leans against her future sister-in-law, nods tiredly.

"I just wish he'd wake up already," She mumbles. "So I can tell him off properly for being so bloody careless."

They laugh a little; they all do the same when their boys get hurt, after all. They tell them off, chide them for being careless, or impulsive, or stupid — and they'll pamper the hell out of them while they're at it, thankful they're still alive at all.

And though Lily's position is a little different from theirs — they chose to wage war in the front lines, after all — it goes both ways. She's seen how Frank gets when Alice has gotten hurt, never mind Sirius. He's impossible when anything happens to anyone he cares about, and he's fierce where Nina is concerned.

"What happened?" she asks Nina. "I saw you signed him in."

"It was a routine— it _looked_ like a routine meeting with an anonymous informant," she says. "The informant was… it was… a Death Eater."

"They're getting bold if they think they can single us out like that," Alice muses. "We'll know more when we examine Sirius's Memory Orb," she adds. "He got there just in the nick of time. I swear, he's got a bloody sixth sense where James is concerned."

"He does show up rather unexpectedly, doesn't he?" Lily tells her. "Mind you, I'm not complaining."

"I know Hit Wizards have some freedoms we don't," Alice admits, "but sometimes I wish we knew what they're all up to. Imagine if one of them went rogue."

"You're not suggesting— _Sirius_?" Nina sounds scandalised. Alice shrugs her shoulders innocently, but her eyes are shining when she answers.

"He does seem to find his way into the worst trouble," she answers jokingly. "I'm just wondering where he gets his information from, just this morning Proudfoot was saying—" she cuts herself off when she catches Nina's shocked expression. "I'm not saying he's— Merlin, Nina, don't look at me like that," she adds with a laugh. "But would it kill him to share his sources? He's got everyone baffled, not just me."

"He's just _good_ at what he does," Nina huffs. "Maybe we ought to take a page out of his book instead of suspecting him just because he bags more Death Eaters than we do."

"Oh, Nina, I don't _suspect_ _him_ , I was only joking," Alice admits, all traces of laughter gone from her good-natured face. "There are others, though, whom I'm not so sure of."

"Well, keep your jokes to yourself," Nina grumbles angrily. "People are paranoid as is, we don't need them going after our own. He's already been accused of siding with the Death Eaters once, have you forgotten?"

"That was _years_ ago!" Alice exclaims. "And he was cleared! Nobody in their right minds would seriously consider—"

"Just stop _saying_ that sort of thing," Nina gets up furiously. She has always been extremely protective of Sirius, ever since they were kids, and Lily is fully aware why Alice's words hit a sore spot. She can't bring herself to say anything while Nina storms out of the room and a grudging, "It's already hard enough without ignorant gossip doing the rounds."

.

* * *

.

James wakes up as he always does; his right hand shoots out from under the covers, blindly reaching for the spot where he'd have left his glasses, had he fallen asleep in his bed.

When he is feeling his way around only air, he frowns, eyes still closed.

"Hey," Lily says softly, taking his hand in hers. Inwardly, she is overjoyed. James isn't. His eyes snap open in alarm, he gives a start— and his wand flies into his other hand from across the room.

"Hi, James," she says in the same tone, now reaching out to take his other hand in hers, gives him time to try and focus on her. "It's okay, you're in St. Mungo's. You were injured this morning, try not to move."

"What—" he croaks out, mouths something else that doesn't quite reach her ears. She puts his glasses on his face, gives him a kiss.

"Let me get you something to drink. You must be parched."

" _Lily_?" He is frowning at her now, as though he isn't quire sure she is there at all, but she is all smiles when she perches on his bedside once more, helps him drink a few sips of a chilled restorative potion.

"You're in St. Mungo's," she repeats, when it looks like he'll retain the information a little better. "You were injured this morning. Sirius brought you in."

"Oh, yeah…" he seems to remember now. Then his face crumbles. "Sirius— is- is- is, he okay? I need to… to see him. Wh-where is he?"

"He's fine," Lily answers soothingly. "He stayed as long as he could, but he had to go back to work. He promised he'll be back to see you as soon as he can."

James looks worried upon hearing this, but then his eyes lose their focus— clearly their method of communication is more effective than whatever she could tell him— and he breathes in relief.

"What happened?" Lily asks.

"A Death Eater happened. I… it was this…" James trails off, shakes his head. "I just— I didn't see it coming."

"You need to be more careful," Lily chides gently, but everything she'd planned to tell him off for dies before it's out. She can't stay mad at him, although at times like this, she wishes she had retained her capacity for whacking him with her copy of _Hogwarts, A History_ like she used to throughout their Hogwarts days. It was so _easy_ , back then, to be properly cross at him, for way less.

Instead, she punctuates her statement with a kiss, which has them both smiling against each other. Yep, she's definitely lost her edge over the past three years, and she finds, she doesn't mind it one bit. Kissing James has always been an addictive activity, and now she is aware how close she came to never doing it again, it seems all the more important to get a good snog in.

"Does this mean I'm forgiven for picking on Vermin?" he asks her sleepily. Lily laughs despite herself.

"It's Ver- _non_ ," she reminds him. "But yes. You're off the hook. Sirius, though, still isn't."

.

.

The following morning is a much cheerier affair.

Maybe because instead of the overcrowded hospital, they're at James's home in Godric's Hollow. James's parents helped her get him settled, and he was awake enough to demand staying in the family room rather than his own. He hasn't stirred since, though, which is good.

He's as fussy as a whiny toddler when he's stuck in bed, and Lily loves him to bits, but she can't wait to see him all better. If his mum hadn't been around to put him to bed, she is fairly certain he'd still be slurring out demands for grass cakes and a carrot salad he's too exhausted to eat.

"Aye aye!" Sirius's voice suddenly rings out from the hall, sounding almost indecently cheerful and, when Lily gets a look at him, he's got a skip in his step as he hangs a very battered cloak on his usual peg. His robes — the same ones he had been wearing yesterday — are even more torn-up than she remembers.

"Pumpkin, you're _home_!" Mrs. Potter exclaims, and Sirius sweeps her off her feet in one of his more exuberant hugs, turns her round a few times and gives her big kisses on both cheeks before her feet touch the ground. Laughter rings from the entrance hall, and Lily watches from the doorway, amused.

"Someone is having a good day." Mr. Potter ambles forward to embrace his surrogate son as well, pats him on the cheek and politely declines the roller-coaster treatment. "How are you today, son?"

"You know me, Mr. P, never better."

"Would you like some breakfast, Sirius?" Mrs. Potter asks cheerfully, already on the way to the kitchen.

"Sure."

"Nina came by earlier," Mrs. Potter's voice trails over from the kitchen. "She said to tell you not to forget you're going out for lunch, and that you have that meeting later."

"Aw, I _missed_ her?" Sirius's smile loses its brighter edge. "I was hoping — never mind, I'll make it up to her."

"She wanted to wait for you, but she was already late. Those Aurors are running them to the ground," comes from the kitchen.

"That they are," Sirius agrees cheerfully, now making a beeline for the family room.

"Hey, Lily," he says, gives her a kiss on each cheek. When she puts her arms around him, she notices he feels rather warm, and the way he stiffens when she runs her hands down his back tells her volumes. She doesn't get to ask; he's already looking over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of James.

"I was wondering if you'd managed to successfully settle him in."

"We _can_ do things without you, you know," she answers wryly.

Sirius grins, makes his way to where James is sleeping. He watches him for a moment, his cheerful disposition gone.

"I thought he wouldn't be so pale anymore," he says, sits down on the edge of the enormous sofa James is taking up. "Want me to take him to his bed?"

"He wanted to stay down here," Lily tells him. "He said he's not missing the action or getting put away like furniture."

"He would," Sirius says with a snort. "Demand to be in the thick of things, only to zonk out the next instant." He does know James well.

"And now let's have a look at you," Lily states, already brandishing her wand.

"Och, Lils, I'm fine."

"Really."

"Never better." He flashes her a heart-melting smile, the little manipulator, but Lily finds herself impervious to it.

"That's a bold statement, coming from you. Come on, let's see it, then. Off with the getup." She gestures for him to take off his robes, takes them from him and puts them aside. She sits him down on a footstool while he undoes a spell-proof vest with a long-suffering groan she chooses to ignore as well.

"What happened yesterday?" Lily asks him, checking his scalp over for cuts, bits of debris (or fleas. It _has_ happened).

"You'd have to ask him, I'm still not completely sure. Nina said he got a note from an informant. Turned out to be bogus."

"They go alone for that sort of thing?" Lily asks, making a mental tally of the mountain range that is the network of scars on his scalp, to try to discern if there are any new ones.

"I think they do, sometimes."

"Well, they shouldn't. As evidenced by what happened," she decides.

Sirius nods, contrite.

"You need a haircut," she adds, parting his hairline to look more closely at a warm spot she's found. "Who was it, Sirius? He wouldn't tell me."

"It was Reg," Sirius admits, and she stops what she's doing to stare at him. Sirius suddenly looks very tired.

"Reg as in, _your brother, Reg_? He's a _Death Eater_?"

"Not a very good one."

"Oh, _Sirius_ …"

"It was a matter of time, Lils. He made his choices years ago, and I… I made mine." Sirius sounds defeated, and Lily wraps him in a hug. When she pulls away, Sirius gives her a sad smile.

"I think… I think he fooled James into thinking he… Oh, I don't know. But it was him who— _Ow_! _Ow_ , Lils, _don't_." Sirius jerks away from her hold, when she runs her hands up the back of his head.

"Nonsense, let me look." She peers closely at it. "You've got a lump here the size of Cornwall."

"He did blow up this fountain," Sirius explains, grimacing. "My deflecting shield wasn't fully functional by then."

"You've got to be more careful," she says, feeling like a broken record and holding his face in her hands to ensure some eye contact. She plants a kiss on his forehead. Sirius looks away, gently extricates his head from her grip. "Now," Lily instructs, "get undressed and let me have a look at you."

"Is that even _appropriate_ , Healer Evans?" he asks, feigning scandal. "I must remind you, you _are_ engaged to my best friend and brother, who is lying right there. I'm your best man!"

"And as such, I want to make sure you make it to our wedding in one piece," Lily counters impassively, gesturing for him to hurry up. When the shirt comes off, she turns him this way and that, eyes roving over the familiar handful of old scars that still defy any erasing, last week's bruises from that failed attempt to raid one of the Lestranges' manors, trying to spot any recent— _oh_.

"And what do you call _this_?" There's a long sort of lump along his ribcage, purplish-black and ominous.

"What do I call what?"

"Lie down for me, will you?" She orders, steers him to another couch and has him lie down on his front. "How did you get this?"

"You'll have to describe it, I might be able to tell you," Sirius says, his face buried in a cushion.

"It looks like... it's an odd sort of lump."

"Wow, Healer Evans. Now I see why you're the pro. Is that the official medical term?"

"Don't tell me you can't feel it," Lily can't believe him this time, either.

"I swear I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Well, it's right there."

"I'm not made of eyes," Sirius points out. "Where did you say it was?"

"Here," Lily says. Then she touches the lump.

Sirius tenses up at once, lets out a startled cry. And the lump suddenly _wriggles away_ , comes to a halt near his spine. Sirius gasps and winces, too pained to speak.

"Oh dear," Lily breathes. "Okay, okay— _don't move_. I'll have to get the thing out. Better yet, I'll call someone to get it out, so don't move, Sirius. Oh, I'm so _sorry_!"

"Hurry." It comes out strangled. Sirius is gripping his cushion in a white-knuckled hold. She does, throws some Floo powder into the grate, calls her Dark Curses teacher, even as James's alarms go off.

"Come on, _come on_!" Lily pleads from where she's trying to stabilise James, acutely aware that whatever just happened, it's _way_ above her pay grade.

Andromeda Tonks looks harassed when her yelling makes her hurry to the grate of the Dark Curses Ward, but when Lily explains what she saw, her expression suddenly morphs into alarm.

"It's a kind of leech, and very dangerous. You'll have to make an incision and chase it out as soon as possible, you can't wait for me," she tells her, rattles off a series of spells Lily tries to jot down as fast as she can, while around her, the House-Elves are trying to help James lie back down, and Sirius is cursing into his cushion. "Put it in a jar with plain water, it can't survive in that medium. Use your wand, don't pull it out with tweezers and _don't_ touch it. And find out how long he's had it, if you can. I'll bring the treatment and be right over."

"Okay, okay," Lily mutters nervously, even as a gasp reaches her ears from the doorway. James's mum hurried over when she heard the commotion, and now she's giving them a shocked look.

Lily can still see the thing moving under Sirius's skin. On his right forearm, the arm guard he's worn on and off for years goes from purples and blues to flashing red so abruptly, it looks like a Muggle stop light. He is shaking with pain, and Lily doesn't need to be a genius to realise they've got very little time here.

"Oh, _Pumpkin_ , what did you get yourself into this time?" Mrs. Potter has evidently seen this sort of thing before, because she sends one of the Elves to get a jar with plain water, casts a quick sleeping spell on James, and hurries to Sirius's side. Then she looks at Lily. "Cut that foul thing out and make sure you drain all the slime."

" _Slime_?" Oh gods, this will be _gross_. "Um— um, I'll have to cut it out, Sirius."

"Just do it," he grits out.

She does. The incision itself is painless, but it's getting the thing out of it what isn't easy. It seems to know what is about to happen and wiggles this way and that, trying to escape the heat of her wand— Sirius's badly-muffled cries of pain aren't helping, either.

Mrs. Potter helps her, uses her wand to help herd the thing out, holds the jar with water to the cut, and suddenly it's out, a ten-inch long, dark purple worm that writhes like mad, turning the water an oily shade of black. Lily's hands are shaking by the end of it, and Sirius looks close to passing out.

"When did this happen?"

"I don't know," Sirius bites out, as Mrs. Potter drains every last drop of slime from his back. It's surprisingly little, and it goes into the jar, which they seal off.

"What did you do last night?" Lily asks him, putting some gauze pads on the cut, which soak in a black, jellylike sort of substance. "Nina said you dropped her off at home, but she called on you in the morning and your elf said you'd gone—"

"We— we raided the Lestranges." Sirius's voice is shaking.

"That was last week," Lily points out.

"Yeah… and Saturday too."

"You've done it more than _once_?" Is it her, or do they never have a clue what he's up to, of late? All he does is say he's got a thing, he's got to go to work, and vanishes from their collective radars. His Locator Clock's hand is rarely at "Safe", and—

"We've been at it for a couple of weeks," Sirius admits shakily. "There's over thirty— thirty properties we're trying to seize. We're looking for this _thing_..."

"How many have you raided?" Mrs. Potter asks keenly.

"Twenty-four. We're… doing another one tonight." Twenty-four in fifteen days? That's _insane_ , and has he been to _every_ raid? Lily wouldn't put it past him.

"What about the night before last?" She asks, thinking the only thing he'll raid tonight is his pillow. Especially if he didn't go straight home after dropping James off after that failed dinner with her parents.

"Diff— Difference of opinion with the… the Death Eaters over how to ring in the new year."

"When is the last time you took a day off?" Mrs. Potter wants to know.

"Does Christmas count?"

"You went to _work_ on Christmas. There was that attack at my parents'," Lily reminds him. "And you've gone to work every day since, even if you were on holidays. There was the Marble Arch raid three days ago, too."

"That one doesn't count, does it? I was there by sheer coincidence." Sirius winces, then chuckles. "It's been a long year."

"It's the second of January!" Lily exclaims, just as Andromeda arrives with Hinky, the Potters' favourite elf, a case with potions in her arms. She glances at the leech slowly dying in the jar on the coffee table.

"Oh good, it's just a baby," she states, walks briskly towards them, gives James and Sirius a once-over.

"Hi, Andie," Sirius mumbles, when she lifts his head a fraction and shines light into his eyes. He's bathed in sweat.

"So, ideas on how you got a Life-Eater in your system?"

"Not… not really." It's a slur, at this point.

"Life-Eater?"

"It's a by-product of a very nasty combination of a curse and a potion, he's lucky you spotted it so early. Usually it goes undetected for days before the target shows any symptoms."

"What symptoms are those?" Lily wants to know. She hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary about Sirius. She checked him over out of a gut feeling, nothing more.

"Abrupt weight loss."

"And…?"

"Death," Andromeda says simply, turning towards Sirius once more. "Think back on last night, baby cousin," she instructs, examining the bleeding cut on Sirius's back. "What did you do?"

"I didn't, didn't get… get… cursed…" Sirius mumbles weakly. Andromeda rolls her eyes, shakes her head.

"Tell me this, then: In the past three hours, who did you duel?" she asks Sirius, checking his vitals with a speed and precision Lily can only admire. His armguard has gone from glowing red to a purplish hue.

"Les… Lestrange."

"Which one?" Andromeda asks him. Sirius swallows.

"All five of them?"

"Any ideas of who tossed a glowing orange potion at you? It would have looked like a simple fog potion."

"All… five of them. I think. Not sure," he says, then grins wanly. "I redirected them to hit each other, but."

"Well, as always, you're immensely lucky. It must just have grazed you."

"Doesn't feel that way from this end."

"We'll remedy that, shall we? Deep breath—" Andromeda's voice is gentle, focused as she pulls another line of slime out of him. Sirius winces into his cushion. "Sorry. Now take another deep breath for me. Thank you, Sirius. Deep breath—" she says, pours some drops of potion on him. There's a puff of multicoloured smoke that tickles Lily's nose, and when it clears, there's no indication he had that thing inside him at all. His armguard flashes blues and greens. "And there you are, good as new, Sirius," she establishes, satisfied. "…Sirius?"

"He's asleep," Mrs. Potter tells them. Lily believes they ought to call him in sick.

Andromeda fills in a Healing report form, hands it to Mrs. Potter, "I'm thinking he could use a day off or two. Keep him warm and resting at least today, I'll send a copy and the Life-Eater to the Hit Wizard Division. They ought to check everyone over."

.

* * *

.

On the sofa, Sirius jerks awake a little later. He sits up in the same motion, summons a clean shirt before he has even properly opened his eyes.

"Where do you think you're going?" Lily asks, startled. Sirius stops mid-movement, turns towards the source of her voice.

"Work," he tells her sleepily. "I've got this… this thing."

"You're staying in, today, Healer's orders," Lily tells him, helping him lie back down.

"What? No, a call just came in, and—"

"Nothing came in, Sirius."

"Did," he argues, sounding like an obnoxious child as he scrubs his face and stretches with a groan. "Besides, I feel _great_."

"That's good to hear," a deep voice says from the far end of the room, making her jump. Shacklebolt nods at Lily, then gives Sirius a pointed look. "I'm sorry to cut your recuperation short, but we are required as backup. There were some, ah, _unforeseen_ additions to their ranks in the Doncaster raid."

"Told you they'd defend that one tooth and nail." Sirius is already throwing on his spell-proof vest. He gives Shacklebolt a questioning glance as he summons himself a clean set of dark blue robes.

"Thanatovich," is the answer, and Lily sucks in a sharp breath. That is one name she has become familiar with and fears with every reason. Sirius only smirks.

"So, the old goat finally got back on his feet," he states. "Took him long enough."

"…And Voldemort," Shacklebolt adds. "I think they're keeping the Orb there, like you suspected." Sirius's smirk turns into a dangerous, feral sort of grin. He pecks Lily on the cheek, gives her a parting wink, then bows his boss outside.

"Lead on, Tiberius."

"You're not going, are you?" James's mum intercepts them on their way out, ashen-faced and too worried for words.

"Oh, yes I am, Mrs. P. I wouldn't miss this for the world," Sirius tells her, giving her another enormous hug and lifting her from the ground to kiss her on the cheek. "Please, tell Nina that I love her more than anything and not to worry."

"Oh, _Pumpkin_ …" Mrs. Potter looks like she's just aged ten years. There is something else she wants to say, but instead she tells him, "Just promise me you'll come back."

She holds him tightly, and Sirius lifts her face to look into her eyes, gives her a bright smile. Behind them, Shacklebolt is looking like he's having the hardest time biting back a laugh.

"I'll probably be late for dinner, but I'll come back, Mrs. P., I always do," he promises. "Don't tell Nina I love _you_ even more than I love her." And with a parting kiss and a wink, he and Shacklebolt stride outside.

" _Pumpkin_ , eh?" Lily hears Shacklebolt ask, amused, as she joins James's mum by the door.

"Oh, _yes_." Sirius grin becomes, if possible, even wider. "Don't you dare ruin it for me. Where to, then?"

"That warehouse you spotted yesterday by the River Don, Pumpkin. Southern gate. On the double."

A moment later, the house is plunged in a dread-filled sort of silence. It is short-lived, though. Minutes later, James starts awake, asking loudly what the hell is going on.

.

* * *

.

Sirius _doesn't_ arrive for dinner. Not even for an extremely late supper or midnight scranny, and when Nina returns from her shift wide-eyed and pale, the anxiety they've been trying to bite back begins to fill the old manor house.

Word spread about the failed raid, but aside from basically warding a five-mile radius against Muggles, the Aurors have been ordered to stand by, catch anyone trying to apparate out or escape from the battle. It's the Hit Wizards who keep getting called in, so far there's thirty of them battling it out against an enormous number of Death Eaters and Voldemort himself. Rumour has it, they found the location of a relic the Dark Side was about to use for something very daunting. What that is, though, is mere conjecture at this point.

They sit around in the kitchen, where James's mum makes them cup after cup of tea and coffee which then go cold, untouched. Lily goes to check on James every so often to escape the gloomy mood, but he has spent the day asleep and — blissfully — unaware.

At one in the morning, they are all startled by a very dishevelled figure shuffling into the kitchen. James's hair is on end, his bathrobe crooked and twisted up. He looks like he's forgotten how to get dressed altogether, but his hazel eyes are shining behind his crooked glasses.

"Where's Sirius?" is the first thing that leaves his mouth, as they scramble to get him into a chair. James lets them, but he tries hard to focus on Nina when he adds, "I can't reach him. Where is he?"

"Working," the four of them chorus, a little too fast. James gives them an unconvinced look.

"Have some tea, Jamie," Mrs. Potter offers, already placing a steaming mug on the table in front of him.

"What's wrong, Mum?" he asks instead. "What happened?"

"We just—" Nina starts.

"Weren't expecting you to be on your feet so soon," Lily finishes for her, already making a show of checking his pulse and wondering if it would be a good idea to stun him before he tries to go off after Sirius. Because that's exactly what he'll do if they tell him what's going on. "Castle said you wouldn't wake up until tomorrow at least."

"Did he." James isn't buying, and Lily heaves a sigh, quite ready to tell him, after all—

Outside, there's a _thump_.

"What was that?" Lily asks instead. They all stare at each other, wide-eyed and listening hard. There's another _thump_ — Nina and James have their wands out, and they're not the only ones.

The front door opens, there's a _crash_ — the sound of something breaking — a muffled curse.

"I'll fix that in the morning!" Reaches their ears, and they all let out the breath they've been holding.

"Sirius!" James exclaims, already staggering unsteadily out of the kitchen.

"Aye aye!" Sirius's voice is as cheerful as it had been yesterday morning. "Look at _you,_ Jimmy boy! Standing up and everything already! Didn't think I'd find you awake! How are you feeling?" They pile out into the hall, where Sirius is holding James at arm's length, beaming at him. Lily doesn't miss the way he looks like he's just narrowly escaped an explosion again, the slightly unfocused gaze he is fixing James with.

At least he _looks_ like he's in mostly one piece.

"Like a million Galleons," James answers, relief written all over his face. "Where _were_ you, at this hour?"

"This _insane_ party you _totally_ missed out on," says Sirius with a wink, pulls James into an embrace and plants a kiss on his cheek. Then he moves on to the rest of them — even Mr. Potter is treated to an exuberant hello. Sirius makes them all laugh. He is liberal with the "I missed you's" and the "I love you's" which aren't uncommon — but never so lavishly laid on them as now.

"Lily, my favourite future _sister_!" He tells her brightly, after he's given Nina a very long, drawn-out kiss and many loud proclamations of his undying love. "A word, yeah?"

"What?" asks James, who has been swaying in place and watching with a confused sort of grin. "Wait—"

"It's just this thing," Sirius tells him cheerfully, already pulling her towards the family room. "I'll get her back to you in two shakes, promise."

"Sirius, slow down—" Lily giggles, wondering what got into him. The hand pulling her along is very cold to the touch, though. Clammy, and it resets her priorities rather dramatically.

They've barely cleared the door to the family room and shut it behind them, when he turns to her, all traces of a smile gone. Rather than breathlessly happy, he suddenly looks rather desperate.

"What's wrong?" she asks, already tensing up for action.

"I didn't want to… y'know. Worry them." Sirius swallows, glances at the door and back at her, already shrugging off his robes. Underneath, there's a growing patch of red on his vest. "You're going to need a bigger jar. And probably a couple of band-aids."

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* * *

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 **TBC.** Feedback in any way or form is greatly appreciated. Just like you enjoy reading fics, us writers enjoy reading comments!

 **Next up:** some R&R, some TLC, four funerals and no wedding, an Order meeting, and we find out what Voldemort's up to. If all goes well. Oh, and the Evanses and the Soon-To-Be-Dursleys make an appearance, demanding to see the dog!


	4. Four: Funerals, Still No Wedding

**Disclaimer:** The information contained herein has been obtained from sources believed to be reliable. However, no warranty as to the accuracy, completeness or adequacy of such information is implied. Any resemblance to House, M.D. is purely intentional. Star Wars is owned by a mouse — not sure if I have to disclaim it, do animals even get ownership rights? MTRT is owned by SNL and is brought here because this is a gift fic and Shayde123 likes him. Rogan and Doryn are her awesome creations and I've taken them out for a spin, to make writing MTRT more bearable.

* * *

 **In this Chapter:** Betty puts Crouch in time-out, Sirius and James are loopy, laundry tips are exchanged, Castle comes for a visit (along with like, half the Ministry), Matt the Radar Technician makes an appearance, there are muffins involved, and the Orb of Chaos suffers irreparable damage. Also, Remus is Mr. Cranky McGrumpypants, Pete is manipulative, and Voldemort gets a mention.

* * *

 **Four: Funerals, Still No Wedding**

* * *

.

The Potter household has never been a conventional one. It's actually rather odd in lots of ways. For example, it's weird in that nobody thinks anything of it when Lily vanishes with Sirius behind a closed door and when they open it, she's got Sirius mostly naked on a sofa and is straddling him, pinning him down with all her strength while he writhes and moans underneath her.

Instead, they take one look at the scene and quickly come to the conclusion that she could use their help.

"What are you doing?" James asks, swaying on the doorway. He is addressing the fireplace, though; his focus is kind of shot.

"Why don't you go to bed, sweetie?" his Mum asks, trying to get hold of one of the moving lumps crawling around under Sirius's skin. Sirius lets out a choked sort of moan, but somehow still manages to add a very shaky, "Yeah, go lie down, mate. I'll be right up. We'll… we'll play some— _ow, dammit_! Exploding Snap."

"You'll do no such thing, now stop moving," Nina chides, huffing as she tries to keep Sirius still. He ignores her, flashes James a grin. Or maybe it's a grimace, James can't tell. He's seeing two of everything.

"It'll be fun," Sirius squeaks. "We haven't played— _ahh_ — Exploding— Exploding Snap in ages."

"Go, James," Lily tells him in her Healer voice, and what is she pulling out of Sirius's side? No matter how hard he squints, he can't make it out, but it looks like it hurts.

"But I _just_ got up," he argues with a whine, which goes largely ignored: Nina is straddling Sirius, holding him down while Lily wields a jar full of quickly-darkening water, and his parents are both shining their wands up and down Sirius's back and sides, making these dark worm things jump into the jar. He walks forward unsteadily, trying to focus, but all he can see are double blurs, and Sirius's arm guard flashing red is all distracting.

"That's the last one, I think," says his Dad, adjusting his glasses on his nose. "Let's get the rest of it sorted out before he wakes up."

James gives Lily a dazed smile as he gets ushered to sit down and his argument is shut down with a quick kiss.

"You look doubly nice tonight," he tells her, but the next moment the two of her are gone and he can hear her calling Andromeda over the Floo.

There's an eruption of noise that makes him cringe, as though someone just let a crowd into the house.

"It's bedlam here, _don't_ bring him over," Andie's voice says loudly amid the chaos. "We're full up— here, give him this, and these, and this one wouldn't hurt."

"What happened?" Lily asks, catching bottle after bottle of potions and putting them in a basket. James hopes she won't have to go to St. Mungo's right now, but it begins to dawn on him that something maybe isn't quite right.

"That Doncaster raid, it was a disaster. We've got over fifty Hit Wizards and Aurors in various states of bashed-up in here," is the harassed answer. "You'll see in the morning. In the meantime, make sure you get all the Life-Eaters and seal him off using this."

The din cuts off, and Lily hurries back, carrying a basket full of clinking bottles and vials. He loves her when she takes action and bosses everyone around, and would she get terribly cross at him if he pointed out how gorgeous both of her look right now?

"Alright, here's what we'll do…"

James doesn't find out, though, because he's asleep the next moment.

.

* * *

.

Dawn brings with it the first easy breath Betty has been able to take in what feels like ages, welcoming the new day with a palette of gorgeous pinks and reds, birdsong… and a squadron of battered-looking Hit Wizards and Aurors, led by Tiberius Shacklebolt and Barty Crouch.

"What are you doing here?" Betty Potter demands. The nerve of him! She has no love for Barty, hasn't for years, and she'll do her damnedest not to let him at her lads. They just finished changing their dressings!

"Did he come here?" Shacklebolt asks her urgently for a greeting, lowering his hood as he steps into the house. There is a large dressing over his bald pate, and he looks like he could use some tea. Or better yet, a week's worth of rest. "Please tell me he's here."

"He's asleep," she informs them shortly, but allows them to troop inside and directs them to the family room. Shacklebolt takes one look at Sirius, and orders Castle to come here. One of the Aurors jumps to it, gone with a _BANG_ the instant she clears the anti-apparition wards outside.

"Tiberius, can't this wait?" Coop asks the burly wizard, but he only shakes his head, a grim expression on his face.

"What happened?"

"It's classified," Crouch mutters. Out of them all, he is the only one immaculately dressed and combed; the other twelve witches and wizards look worse than Sirius did when he came home.

Betty takes pity on them and puts them all up in the large sitting room while they wait, has Dinky serve them all tea and coffee while Hinky cobbles together a pile of sandwiches they inhale exactly like her boys usually do, while Lily looks them over for injuries. She sends another elf, Blinky, to get some jars a moment later.

When Grigori Castle arrives, his Healer's bag in hand, the scene has changed yet again and Godric's Hall has been turned into a makeshift hospital, and everyone pitches in to help. Except, as usual, Barty. He only glares at them as though they're wasting his time.

"What's this, then?" asks Castle, taking in the scene— passed-out witches and wizards everywhere, over thirty jars with dying leeches in them, and a furious Crouch insisting it can wait, it can all wait… from the corner he was directed to when Betty had enough of him. "Are we branching out into the country? Lovely."

Lily launches into a quick explanation of what she's found— only to be interrupted, yet again, by Barty.

"Wake him up," he snaps, gesturing at Sirius, who is fast asleep despite the chaos around him. "If he _hasn't_ got it—"

"Hasn't got what?" Betty asks irritably. It's bad enough that this wizard barges in on the place where he's least welcome, now he's also disrupting Sirius's sleep?

"That's classified," is the infuriating answer.

"Well, you can't just come in here and—"

"All right, he's awake. Not sure what you can get out of him, though," Castle informs with a smirk. "Healer Evans gave him all the _fun_ potions." He winks conspiratorially at Lily, who laughs and waves him over to help patch up a cut as nasty as the one they just closed on Sirius… who is sitting up groggily, supported by Coop.

"What did I miss?" he asks, looking around, bleary and curious. "Is St. Mungo's branching out?"

Grigori Castle lets out a chuckle, "I asked the same thing! No, no, Evans— the way you're doing it gives her too much free movement. Do this instead." There's a sharp intake of breath, and they all turn to look at the Healer, who is single-handedly pinning down a Hit Witch and ushering a leech out from her shoulder. "See? Much more effective."

"The Chaos Orb, where is it?" Crouch took advantage of the distraction to bear down on Sirius, who blinks up at him, unfazed. "It vanished from the scene. Tell me _you_ have it, Black."

Sirius thinks about it, then gives him a lazy sort of smile. Whatever Lily gave him, at least he's not having a wobble because Crouch is here at all. He likes him even less than Betty does.

"Chill, C-man, it's in my pocket," he slurs placidly, looks around the room, then down at himself, a bit perplexed when he realises he's almost fully undressed. "Where's my pocket?" he asks, "and, and all the… stuff that goes with it?"

"What stuff?" asks Nina, who is now suddenly sitting next to Sirius and giving Crouch a warning look.

"Y'know, the… the _stuff_ that goes around it." Sirius gestures vaguely in midair. "Holds the pocket up, like… goes. With it."

They all stare at Sirius in stunned silence, but he is looking at Nina for help. The next moment, everyone's eyes are on her. She shakes her head at them, completely lost.

" _Oh_!" she says at last, catching on. "You mean, your _clothes_?" she asks Sirius, and Betty has to giggle under her breath. Sirius's face lights up.

"Yeah, that's the word." He makes to sit up again. Nina shakes her head, lies him back down. Still, he looks at Crouch with an accomplished sort of expression. "It's in my clothes."

"And _where are those_?" Barty asks shortly.

"I don't know," Sirius replies easily, now snuggling up to Nina. "You'll have to… ask my mum."

 _What did he just say?!_

"That's _me_!" Betty exclaims brightly, and though she can see Coop bite back a laugh, she can't bring herself to care. _Take that, you damned old hag, he just called_ me mum _! Me!_ "I'm his mum!"

"We heard," Tiberius tells her in his deep baritone. "We know." As they should. Betty can see his eyes are dancing, and it's not mocking.

"His clothes, ma'am?" Caradoc asks politely a moment later.

"You're not taking him to go fight again," Betty informs them shortly. "Are you insane? Look at the state of him! Look at the state of _you_!"

"They just want the robes I came in with," Sirius slurs against Nina.

"Oh, those rags," Betty replies with distaste. "I put them in the wash, Pumpkin, but I fear we'll have to get you new ones."

"In the _wash_?!" Tiberius and Barty chorus, as scandalised as Betty was herself a moment ago.

" _Pumpkin?!_ " Caradoc and Mordecai chorus at the same time.

Sirius just looks at her with fascination, a grin slowly spreading on his face. She loves it when he smiles. He should do that more often.

"What's my pocket doing in the wash?" he slurs out after a moment.

"Well ," Betty tells him kindly, "did you think your clothes just magically appear in your wardrobe washed and pressed and ready to go?

"… Yyyes?" Sirius ventures after a moment's consideration.

"They don't, Pumpkin." She relishes the look of surprise on his face. For all that they are amazingly capable, both he and James are painfully oblivious to some of the finer aspects of life. Betty sort of pities their wives-to-be (because _of course_ Sirius will marry Nina, she's on tenterhooks waiting for _that_ announcement), because they'll have this to deal with in the future.

"Then how…?" Sirius wonders, an earnestly confused frown on his face.

"I wash them, mend them, press them, _then_ put them in your wardrobe so they're ready for you," she explains patiently, then turns sternly at the invading wizards still staring at her like she's out of her mind. "Of _course_ , in the wash. Hinky and Dinky must be cleaning them now."

" _What?!_ "

"Well, it's not like we have endless uniforms for him, do we?" Betty sniffles, her nose turned up at Shacklebolt. "Have you seen how _my_ lad comes back, _every_ time? On _your_ orders? Just making sure he can get ready for work every day is a full time job."

"Er…" Tiberius raises his hands placatingly, and Betty is fiercely aware of how nervous he looks. Barty, on the other hand, is a heartless thug.

"Get the Magical Equipment Control Squadron over here," he orders.

"But not Matt," Sirius slurs. "I don't like Matt. Bring the mute kid and the bald one, and the annoying chick, if you must. But Matt's a bit of a bastard." He leans heavily against Nina, who covers him with a blanket. Sirius snuggles against her. "I _really_ don't like Matt."

"Why?" Nina asks him. "He seems nice enough."

"He's like, a dark overlord in disguise," Sirius answers in the loudest whisper in creation, just as the Magical Equipment Control Squadron arrives. Betty can see a young lad nodding at them, a bald wizard in grey robes who can't be much older than her boys, and a blond one, with large specs and a wisp of a moustache, wearing Muggle coveralls and a violently orange tool vest, who just stares at them. Sirius squints at him, then adds, "I swear, he reminds me of Darth Vader."

"'Sup, Sirius?" asks the bald wizard, and the younger one of them gestures at him in greeting.

The wizard in the coveralls gives Sirius and James a scowl, but then he says, "Hi. I'm Matt. A radar technician."

"What's a radar technician?" Coop wants to know.

"Someone entirely unnecessary in our world," James supplies. "He's supposed to fix radars."

"It's a thing that goes _beep_ when it finds stuff," Sirius adds, when Coop and Betty herself are giving James identical confused looks, "but he doesn't do it well, because it's constantly breaking down."

Matt just glowers darkly at them after that.

"So, where's the Orb of Chaos, then?"

"In the washer."

The mute wizard, whom Shacklebolt introduces as Rogan, lets out a soundless guffaw. Doryn, the bald one, shakes his head at Sirius.

"Dude…" he chuckles, "when we heard you'd snatched the thing and never made it back to Headquarters, we thought you'd gotten taken."

"I _meant_ to go to Headquarters," Sirius replies. "I just somehow landed here instead."

Rogan begins to make a series of complicated-looking gestures with his hands, and Sirius blushes to the roots of his hair.

"He says, 'Pumpkin ran to mummy'," Doryn chortles.

"Yeah, I caught that," Sirius tells him, nettled, but it's lost in the gale of laughter around him. "Just… go get the Orb _before_ the spin cycle starts," Sirius suggests, somehow managing to make himself heard. _That_ gets them in motion, and Betty lets Coop lead them to their — now potentially deadly — laundry room. She wonders briefly if she ought to tell the DMLE that it usually is potentially deadly whenever Sirius's or James's laundry is involved. Always has been, and it's not a cause for concern.

Then she takes one look at Barty — who is now wearing a white sheet-type thing with a little visor on it that makes him look like one of those colonial witch burning types— and decides against it. Instead, she asks Blinky to make a snack for everyone — Sirius and Nina suggest muffins, then fall about laughing— and asks Hinky to snap some pictures of Crouch to cheer her up later.

She is both awed and a little intimidated by the sudden _deployment_ — it seems as though every Hit Wizard who wasn't at the raid is suddenly trooping through her house, and they don't come alone; there's scores of Medi-Wizards around, Aurors arguing over Portkey coordinates, or wielding glass spheres and permanent markers, nurses taking vital signs… and through it all, the Magical Equipment Control Squadron are shouting at each other somewhere in the laundry room below.

"Watch it— get it out _gently_!" an imperious voice shouts, and Sirius rolls his eyes. _"Gently_ , Rogan! Are you deaf as well as dumb— _hey_!" There's some thumping and cursing, then— "That's my wrench!"

"Ha ha ha, Rogan! Good one maaaaate," Doryn's thick Cockney rings out a moment later. " _Do_ get it gently, though."

There's a pause, then—

"No, Matt! If you want to get the Restraining Net right, you need to reverse the Filament Charm— Rogan's trying to tell you! The way you're doing it, you'll drop the bloody Orb and this entire place will blow up!"

"Which one is that?" Matt, Betty decides, doesn't sound as imperious as before, as she makes sure James is comfortable on one of the sofas.

"The same one we've been pointing at for ten minutes! Hurry up, there were muffins up there. I haven't had any, Matt! Where's the retainer… the grabby thing? Where's the grabby thing, Matt?"

"I don't know, but can you _please_ stop yelling at me? You're starting to stress me out."

"Rogan says he hasn't had his muffin, either. And he gets cranky if he doesn't get to have his muffin. Don't you _want_ him to have his muffin, Matt?"

"I'm trying, geez."

"Can you _please_ hurry up so I can go have my muffin?" This makes James and Sirius chuckle. "I haven't had my muffin yet, Matt!" This makes them crack up.

"I told you I didn't want Matt," Sirius tells Shacklebolt conversationally, but all he gets for an answer is a pained grunt. Shacklebolt, too, is getting treated for Life-Eaters by an exceedingly cheerful Healer Castle, who is now holding bets as to how many Life-Eaters he can extract in under a minute, while at the same time competing against Lily and two Medi-Wizards who were sent to help.

"And that's all for this one, today," Castle establishes, wiping his hands on a steaming towel and gesturing at the passed-out bunch around him. "I'll need some Portkeys to get this lot to St. Mungo's. Evans, pack up. You're coming with me."

"But— but, does she have to, Grigori?" To Betty's surprise, James is now slurring out his argument. He's been watching the goings-on around him with the same dazed sort of curiosity he's had since he woke up earlier. To no-one's surprise, he seems to lose his train of thought right after.

"I _know_ , right?" Castle asks sarcastically, "I don't like it either. I mean hospitals are _disgusting_ — full of sick, moaning people. Then again—" He looks around the room and shudders exaggeratedly, then makes a show of watching Lily closely over her shoulder as she kisses James goodbye. "Crack on, Evans. Lots to do, lives to save, infections to catch."

"I'll be back soon," Lily promises, then gives Castle a sideways glance. "I thought you didn't like saving lives?"

"I became a Healer to treat illnesses. Saving lives is more like collateral damage, but I've gotten used to it," Castle replies, just as there's a _boom_ from the basement that makes the house rattle and shake, and Sirius and James leap up from their seats, wands in hand. Betty waves her own to make them lie down again. Castle gives her an appreciative look.

"Mind you… with this bunch, I have to wonder why I bother. Fix them today, they're back again tomorrow with something worse. Come on, Evans, let's get out of here before the lot downstairs start screaming for help," he prompts, tossing her a Portkey.

Patients and Healers vanish not a minute later, leaving a smattering of debris, empty jars, and random bits of discarded clothing behind. A group of Aurors immediately begins cleaning everything up, labelling it all and keeping detailed records.

When the Magical Equipment Control Squad and a dozen Hit Wizards return, they look slightly… scandalised.

"Any luck? Or did you misplace your wrench again?" Sirius asks, when Matt emerges, his hair on end and looking a bit singed. He is not the only one, Betty notes. Coop climbs up after them, winks at her with a grin, though, and that's enough for her to breathe easily.

"Some of the plagues are… _gone_!" Barty snaps at Sirius, as though it's his fault.

"What do you mean, gone, Clan brother Crouch?"

"Gone! _Gone_!" Barty yells, ignoring him. "Obliterated, rendered completely ineffective!"

"That's not so bad, though, is it?" James wants to know. He and Sirius exchange a look — Betty finds them adorable when they do that — and they both shrug, then turn back to stare at Crouch expectantly.

"If there's no plagues or curses, the Dark Side can't use them, right? I'd say it's a win-win. And the Orb doesn't even smell like one of Peter's farts anymore," Sirius adds logically, and James laughs.

"Still, mate," Doryn says, holding a muffin in one hand, a glowing glass case with a revolving metallic sphere in the other, "I'd never have thought this thing _wouldn't_ go off in a washer— is that _dope_ or what?" he and the younger wizard approach James and Sirius to show them the Orb.

"Ha ha ha," Sirius chortles. "It _shrunk_!" The mute kid is clearly laughing. He gives Sirius a fist-bump, grinning. "No, honest— it's at _least_ half as big as it used to be."

"What do you use, Mrs. Potter?" Matt asks, thumbs hooked in his orange tool vest. He makes even that question sound accusing.

"Have you seen how my lads come back from work every day?" Betty huffs. "I use the _strong_ detergent, not the namby-pamby commercial stuff. And I also use… this." Betty summons a vial of her most prized laundry potion. "We came up with it a while back," she informs the curious wizards. "It takes care of most curses, viruses, bacteria, jinxes, and hexes that linger on their robes, not to mention blood and oil stains, and it leaves everything smelling _heavenly_."

"Like freshly-cut hay," James croons.

"Like a spring breeze on a patch of iris," Sirius supplies.

"Like a bough of citronella," Coop says dreamily.

"Don't look so surprised," Betty chides the perplexed wizards staring at her. "Sometimes the boys come back downright _toxic_."

"Your _mother_ ," Matt tells Sirius dramatically, "obliterated half the curses and plagues in the Orb of Chaos! In the wash!"

Sirius grins, gives them an unfocused stare.

"Yeah. She's _that_ good," he states proudly. "Don't look so sour, Matt. So it's the Orb-of-Not-Quite-So-Much-Chaos-Anymore-But-Never-Mind. It's not as if you wanted to _use_ any of those curses, now did you?" As an afterthought, he adds, "I think it's best kept out of your hands. And stay away from our light sabers."

.

* * *

.

Nightfall finds them bundled up warmly on the veranda, where their Mum put them so she could make dinner in peace. Castle — and Andromeda, who popped by earlier — were quite… _vigorous_ in their insistence for his and Sirius's bedrest, and had, of course, gone ignored. James's defence is that, if they're just hanging out, it should _count_ as rest.

"So," he states. "Regulus."

"Yep." Sirius throws his head back to stare at the moonless sky, his expression drawn.

They've both gotten an extended leave of absence, but James isn't fooled by what their letters said, that it is because the Ministry cares about their health and they're getting however long they need to fully recover. They don't need an entire fortnight, do they?

James is feeling much better after a good sleep, and he can tell Sirius, who lives wrapped in bandages on pretty much a daily basis, is already bored with the enforced rest… and rather annoyed with the Ministry to boot.

Those quill pushers wasted no time serving him with an enquiry, because Crouch allegedly believes he took the bloody Orb of Chaos during the raid to use it himself — or to give it to Voldemort, of all things, when he'd just spent weeks trying to get it _from_ him. So it's not only ridiculous, it's also just another attempt to discredit him.

It's completely unfounded and even without the Memory Orbs and statements under Veritaserum it already isn't holding up, but regardless what James has to say on the matter, old man Crouch has gone ahead with it. It'll be fruitless, too, but the bloke is nothing if not adamant on convincing the public that Sirius is as bad as his father, and, now it's out at last, Regulus.

Their Dad advised them to let Crouch just run his mouth off and crush him where he'll make the worst fool of himself— and though Sirius doesn't seem to be losing any sleep over it, he does find it irritating. James is tempted to go punch the bastard on the nose.

"What made you let your guard down?" Sirius wants to know. There is no accusation in his tone, but James inwardly cringes regardless.

"I was…" he shrugs helplessly. "I wanted to see if he really was _that_ far gone, you know... benefit of the doubt?"

"Curiosity, cat." Sirius takes a sip of his Muggle beer, and James does the same, smiling ruefully.

"How did you get us out of it?" he asks.

"Played for time." Upon noticing James's enquiring look, Sirius adds, "Reggie said Voldemort wanted my head, so I told him he was welcome to it. He, um…" he takes another swig of his beer. "Target practice."

"What?!" James erupts. "What the fuck were you thinking?" Sirius shrugs one shoulder.

"I was thinking I couldn't get you out of there _and_ duel him at the same time," he admits. "I had to keep him distracted, give Nina time to return with backup."

"So letting your Death Eater brother use you as a pinata was the best you could come up with?"

"I was curious too." Sirius gives him a lopsided smirk. "You know, testing a theory. Proving a point."

"By letting your brother kill you?"

"I _did_ use a Deflection Shield," Sirius points out. "That's one more shield than you used." James ignores the teasing.

"That's not nearly enough—"

"It _was_." Sirius snorts, but James doesn't miss the bitterness behind it.

"What's funny?"

"The only curses there are no shielding spells against are the Unforgivable Curses," he replies. "If he had wanted to kill me, he could've used one of those. He didn't."

"Your entire strategy hinged on him being _bad at killing_? On him not using any Unforgivables?"

"They're based on intent."

"Well, _that_ clears it up," James retorts mockingly.

"Yep. He's a lousy Death Eater." Sirius's bottle is now empty. He transfigures it into a miniature gargoyle that starts fluttering around their heads, like a stone moth. "He's never had the stomach for murder."

"Oh God, just the way you said that is wrong on so many levels—"

Sirius shrugs one shoulder. "Lousy Death Eater."

"What if he _had_ used an Unforgivable?"

"I'd have moved, of course," Sirius answers drolly. "Let it hit you instead."

"You're such an arse."

"You're welcome. And _you_ should have been wearing your Rebounding Vest. I swear, James." Sirius shakes his head. "Why spend days, nay, weeks on end, coming up with all sorts of spy shit when you won't even use it?"

"I forgot it in my room."

"I should've gotten you a Remembrall for Christmas."

"I was preoccupied!" James exclaims. "That dinner was a disaster, thanks to you. Lily hasn't even forgiven you yet, and—"

"And they're coming by on Saturday, aren't they?"

"Sunday," James corrects nervously. "That's in four days—"

"That's barely enough time to prepare," his brother interrupts cheerfully. "Come on, we've got a map to make."

"A map? Whatever for?"

"You're not thinking of apparating your future in-laws here?" Sirius sounds mildly curious. "No Portkeys, either. Those will make them dizzy and puky and then they'll hate you. And if we Floo them over, there's a high chance of them toppling out the wrong grate. And then they'll hate you."

"Driving all the way here will take them _ages_ , and _then_ they'll hate me," James argues, but he does get up, with more grace than Sirius, it might be added.

"But it's what Muggles do. If they want to be here quick, they can always ask Lily for a side-along apparition, which they _haven't_ since she got her licence," Sirius points out, leaning heavily on the veranda's stone railing. James wonders if he's about to topple over. He also wonders how he keeps track of that stuff, but he implicitly trusts him in that regard.

"So," Sirius carries on logically, sliding the glass door open with the overall elegance of a rheumatoid granny, "I bet you ten G's they'll drive. Which will give Vermin the chance to show off his new ride," he adds, an evil grin spreading on his face.

"I could rent one of Fletcher's flying carriages," James offers, but Sirius gives him _that_ look and he doesn't pursue it further.

"Let them drive, Prongs. _Pleeeease_."

And how can he say no?

.

* * *

.

A couple of days later, James and his friends drop the map off at the Evans family home before they make their collective way to St. Barnabas's Cemetery for the Magical Community.

The memorial service and ensuing funerals don't exactly fly by, and James is plain exhausted after the first two, but they stay until the end regardless, surrounded by equally careworn Hit Wizards and their loved ones. There aren't many of those; most of them have no family left but each other.

James has always admired them for their duelling skills, their recklessness that exceeds even his own. It's times like these, though, that he remembers they are no different from him and Nina, or even Lily — this war has torn apart their dreams (professional Quidditch, for him and Sirius, a career in Healing for Nina, a life as a magical artist for Lily) and replaced them with need.

They each have a reason for choosing the path they did, but the Hit Wizards share one thing: A loss so great, it pushed them into choosing the riskiest of paths, often also the shortest one. Like Sirius says, "it's sort of deadly peril all the time, with a sudden stop at the end." They — none of them — care about dying, as long as it means stopping Voldemort.

That doesn't mean they don't care about each other. The sadness prevailing in the funeral parlour is genuine, the eulogies heartfelt and offered by dozens of people. No matter who or what they've lost along the way, the Hit Wizards are nothing but a tight-knit family, bonded by something that isn't blood.

They mourn their fallen, honour them, add them to the long, ever-growing list of lost loved ones and become even grimmer, deadlier, as a result.

.

* * *

.

They decide to have lunch near Picadilly Circus after the wake, to cheer Sirius up. Not that one lunch will be enough to make his mood turn around — but James is pretty sure there'll be some in-flight entertainment: he _knows_ Sirius is itching for a fight, because he, too, would welcome one with open arms.

None of them knew Atwood, Thyme, Brown or Ferguson very well, but Sirius did, and though he sucks it up and keeps it together remarkably well, James knows him better than he does himself. Sirius is heartbroken; has been, since he got the news. With the war keeping them constantly on their toes, they don't have the luxury of stopping everything to be sad about it all, and fighting back is often the only way to deal with pent-up emotions.

They choose a coffee house near the thoroughfare, which has the right amount of bustle that's ideal to keep Sirius distracted— James knows it's the hundreds of sounds invading his ears, the snatches of conversations he can't but listen in on, the myriad scents his nose can't help but pick up and sift through, looking for any indication of Dark Magic.

He is the same in that regard, after all.

"Dammit," they both mutter in unison, but they're excited as they leap to their feet before their triple espressos have even arrived at their table and look towards the source of the disturbance: a slight tremor under their feet, a faint, yet unmistakable whiff of Eau de Lestrange.

"You shield," Sirius tells Lily and Nina.

"We smash," James concurs.

"I'll open you a tab," Lily supplies, as Nina begins to forcibly evacuate the street.

The next instant, the pedestrians are enveloped in a glowing blue goo and the street is rocked by a blast. James's ears are filled with panicked screams as they're all plunged into a thick cloud of dust.

Business as usual, as it were.

 _At least_ , he thinks sardonically, as his best mate yanks a Death Eater back by his foot before he can apparate away and slams him into the other three, _Sirius is suitably distracted. He's never been good at being a misery guts_.

.

* * *

.

Afterwards, they let let Frank and Alice take the two unlucky Death Eaters they caught to Azkaban.

"Aren't you supposed to be off-duty?" Alice asks them, getting four shrugs in return.

"Tell them that," Sirius mutters, clapping the Death Eaters in irons after pulling their masks off their faces. It's two kids, again. Sirius's cousins, the Pilliwickles. He snorts derisively, tossing their silver masks on the ground.

"Don't forget about our get-together," Frank tells James, shaking his hand before they leave, turns to catch the Memory Orb Sirius just aimed at his head. "It's in the Merse, at four."

"We'll be there," James confirms, checking his watch. They have just enough time for a shower. "C'mon, let's go get ready."

"I've got this thing," Sirius tells him, checking his own watch. "You drop the girls off, there's a lad." He's gone with a _whoosh_ before any of them can ask.

.

* * *

.

At four on the dot, James, Nina and Lily are freshly-showered and standing in a deserted street in the tiny town. Angus opens the door for them, asks the customary security questions, one of which seems to be, "Where is Sirius, then?"

"He said he'd be here," Nina tells her uncle, gives him a kiss on the cheek.

The Order of the Phoenix is comprised of twenty-odd witches and wizards, all of whom are grim-faced today. Dumbledore in particular seems to have aged a decade, and soon James feels about a hundred years old as well: not _one_ of the things they have to discuss is remotely encouraging. To judge by the things they're all covering, from the rise in disappearances, the wave of Muggle Baiting, the increase of explosions that keep getting blamed on gas leaks from the sewer system, that tragic raid that put the Orb of Chaos in the Ministry's hands is just about the best news there is to be had.

It's almost six when there is a sharp series of _rap-tap-tap-tap_ s on the door, making them all jump up from their seats.

"Where have you been?" Remus snaps, his wand aimed between Sirius's eyes. James takes a moment to wonder the same, though. Sirius's robes have a decidedly singed look about them, and there is a long rip down his side, which lets him see his Muggle jeans and shirt aren't any better off.

"That's not how it works," Sirius corrects. "You're supposed to ask me something you _know_."

"When did you shave off my eyebrows the first time?" Remus snarls.

"It was just the one eyebrow, actually," Sirius answers. "January first, nineteen seventy-five. I was tempted to do the other, but you woke up all _bitchy_."

There's a generalised chuckle at this, and Remus reluctantly lowers his wand.

"I do love Greenlaw," Sirius comments sardonically. "Very picturesque."

"You're late." Remus glowers at him. Sirius snorts, shrugs.

"You'd think that, being a super-secret organisation, we'd meet at a more crowded place? Just by being here, we doubled the bloody population. It's bound to draw attention."

"Meeting was scheduled at four," Peter chimes up. Sirius cuts a grimace at him.

"I _told_ you. Frank reminded you," Remus mutters.

"Don't tell me I _missed_ anything, Moony." Sirius shoves his hands into his pockets, extracts a bag of violently blue gobstoppers and pops one into his mouth.

"Why didn't you come in with James and the others?" Caradoc wants to know, and next to him, Benjy and Dorcas gesture for him to share his candy.

"I had a thing," Sirius replies lightly, snaps his fingers to summon himself a cuppa. "And there was so much traffic up the A697. Just dreadful. I should've taken the A1."

"So your _thing_ couldn't wait, could it."

"Now you mention it, maybe it could have." Sirius stares at him. James can all but see both their hackles rising. "I just didn't feel like listening to a recap of all our bloody _losses_ this week. Or are you going to tell me all you've covered so far _hasn't_ been the Doncaster Raid, bickering about what to do with the Orb, the twenty-five so-called gas explosions, and muttering about this week's death toll, disappearances, and Muggle Baiting?"

"Er."

"That's what I thought." Sirius throws his legs on the table, takes a sip of his tea and gestures at the air. "Continue."

"We were waiting for you to report," Dumbledore says sternly. "You're the one who captured the Orb of—"

"Orb-of-Not-Quite-So-Much-Chaos-Anymore-But-Never-Mind." Sirius supplies helpfully, earns himself a smattering of laughs. "No, really. It's the official name now it got half obliterated by the Potter's laundry system."

"Whatever the case," McGonagall tells him, her lips a thin line. "We need your input on how you got it."

"What you heard is what happened," Sirius answers offhandedly. "Voldemort was on fire, I tossed Rasmus on top of him and snatched the thing. It was over pretty quick afterwards."

James is quite sure he hasn't heard that version of events,and he's insanely curious to hear the rest of it— as is everyone else.

"But is it true you nicked it?" Peter wants to know, extending his hand for a piece of candy. Sirius tosses a large one at him.

"I _didn't_ nick it, Pete, don't be daft—"

"They all thought you did," Peter argues. _Crunch_.

"So I got my apparition mixed up," Sirius explains, the slightest hint of remorse on his face. "I was _tired_."

"You were barely on your feet, you mean," James hears their mum say. "It's natural you'd apparate home."

"Don't you know it, Mrs. P." He flashes her a smile a resigned sort of shrug. "The eggmen aren't as understanding, though."

"But the enquiry—"

"Has been proven unfounded," Sirius tosses a scroll at Peter, and they all scramble to read the Ministry's official apology for wasting Sirius's time, while loud crunching makes it to their ears. "I'm not to confiscate any more items that can be potentially world-destroying for at least three days, though."

"You're suspended for three days, that's what it says here."

"Potayto, potato," Sirius replies, crunching down on yet another candy.

"Will you _stop that_?" Remus snaps. Sirius aims a very obnoxious, very blue-toothed grin at him.

"It's impossible to just _suck_ them," he argues, swallows, pops another gobstopper into his mouth. "More important is," he adds, crunching the candy loudly, "the Dark Side has been targeting Muggles again…"

"That's not exactly news, genius," Remus grouses. "That's what the war is all _about_."

"Stop your griping, Grumpycakes," Sirius replies. "I meant, Muggles who are _parents_ of Muggleborn witches and wizards. Just earlier, three homes were hit. One in Wimbledon, one in Wight, and one in Cokeworth, which just did away with my theory that they're going down the A-Z atlas to pick their targets."

"My—" Lily gasps, and James lets out a yelp. His arm is suddenly in a death grip.

"They're alright," Sirius assures her. "They're _all_ alright, but we should start relocating them."

"What, _all_ of them?" asks Emmeline, her eyes wide.

"Got any better ideas?" Sirius asks impatiently. "We're at half-strength right now, everybody's exhausted babysitting the Muggles we _know_ are being targeted, and fighting the war on top. There's no way we can keep protecting them all, there's over three thousand couples all over the country— that we know of."

"Well, the ones with Muggleborn children are considerably less," Dumbledore argues fairly.

"Because half of them have been killed off," says Angus fairly. Everyone turns to him, and he shrugs, holding out a hand for a piece of candy. "I'm sorry, but he's right. Between the disappearances, which stand at seven hundred seventy-five—"

"Eighty-three," Frank corrects worriedly. "As of this afternoon."

"Seven hundred and eighty-three," Angus amends, "and the increasing number of attacks on Muggles with magical children…" he looks expectantly at Sirius.

"Two hundred and eleven, as of twenty minutes ago."

"We've got to do something."

"And more kids are born every day," Sirius throws in. "The family in Wight has a three-year-old, not even they knew he's magical. They got a bit of a scare when Mulciber grabbed him and got blasted across the room." Sirius smirks, catches the Memory Orb Frank unearthed from his pocket. "Now, I have no definite proof as to _how_ the Death Eaters are doing it, but they know who's got magic before even the parents do."

This, of course, makes a babble break out. Everyone, from Tiberius Shacklebolt to Dumbledore himself, are now discussing ways in which the Dark Side could have gotten access to that sort of information.

Sirius, though, just shrugs and tells them, "It's obvious, isn't it?"

"How are they doing it?" Alice wants to know.

"They somehow got their paws on the Hogwarts book, haven't they?" is the answer. "They either nicked it or made a copy, unless there's another magical book and quill that records all the magical kids in the country?"

"If it hasn't been stolen, check it for Protean Charms— something is telling the Dark Side where to look," James muses. "And I bet they're not just looking at the next generation of First Years, Professor."

McGonagall suddenly goes very, very pale. Sirius, though, is onto something else already.

"Here, Lils. I went to look around, saw this place. Your parents might like it—" he hands Lily a few leaflets.

"You sure they're all right?"

"Or my name isn't Barkolomew."

"But… this is in _Swansea_ ," Lily protests at once.

"Yes. Lovely." Sirius smiles widely at her. "It's a nice little cottage near the sea and everything."

"But what about their jobs? They can't just up and leave!"

"They can't stay, though. Either tell them about the war and have them go into hiding, or move them. That _gas leak_ just took out their kitchen, though, so they'll be staying the night at a hotel."

"At a hotel?"

"It's… more of a B&B," Sirius revises. "Didn't know they charge by the hour for those. Mind you, there were _many_ naughty-looking girls there."

Lily gives him a very unimpressed look. Next to her, Nina is practising her death glare.

"You put up my parents at a _motel_?"

"No wonder they were trying to disinfect everything." Lily stares at him as though he's got his tail on. Sirius stares back, his eyes dancing with amusement, mouth working through yet another gobstopper.

 _Crunch. Crunch._

"They can't stay at a _motel_ , Sirius." Lily's tone is something that would usually have made James run for the (dubious at best) safety of his dormitory. Sirius, though, doesn't care.

"Which is why this is the _perfect_ chance for James to gallantly save the day. I already sent them a letter from you," Sirius gives James a wink, "inviting them over to stay at Godric's Hall until the whole bother with the gas leak is sorted."

"What?" James gasps. "At _my place_?"

"Why not? Easiest way to keep an eye on them, isn't it?" Sirius takes the chance to aim a ball of candy into James's open mouth. "And that's ten points to Gryffindor."

.

* * *

.

 **TBC,** in the meantime…

I'm pondering the use of the "Next Up" section, because I never seem to actually put those plot points to use in the next chapter !

…

Anyway.

 **Next Up:** The now homeless Evanses and the Soon-to-be-Dursleys visit a picturesque little village deep in the Welsh wilderness (just over two hours' drive from Beddgelert, you know, sort of around the corner from Moel Heborg), Sirius gets the Order into real estate, James and Sirius invent the GPS decades early, Voldemort has had enough, Remus is still crankypants, and someone makes a bark cake for someone's birthday.

* * *

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